The Short End: Broken Galaxy Book Four Read online

  “Oh, Dan,” Rachel said, shaking her head. “You know I’m on the admiral’s staff now. Please don’t let me hear you doing things like that. You put me in an impossible position. I should report you for this!”

  Dan smiled. “Well, at least have some meatloaf first. Then you can report me. Happy Birthday!”

  Rachel, still shaking her head, sat at the table. She reached for her knife and fork. Dan leaned forward and carved a huge slice of meatloaf for her, holding it on a triangular serving spoon.

 

  “Crap!” yelled Rachel. The sound of the alarm in her embedded comm sounded like someone yelling directly over her head. Dan jumped a foot in the air. He dropped the serving spoon on the white tablecloth.

  Both scrambled to their feet, heading for their combat stations, as the lump of meatloaf intended for Rachel soaked into the pristine white tablecloth, leaving a bloody stain.

  ***

  Two decks above, Rita Page - Admiral of the Black - took the final steps onto her slightly elevated Flag Bridge, settled into her command chair, and buckled her harness. The Flag Bridge was a raised platform, about eight inches higher than the rest of Merkkessa’s bridge. It was surrounded by a railing, with gaps on two sides for entry and exit. Positioned at the rear of the large bridge compartment, it was just large enough for five combat chairs - three in front, and two behind.

  Rita took a quick glance at the four-meter diameter holographic display at the front of Merkkessa’s bridge. The holo was alive with movement as the warships of her fleet broke orbit to take positions in a defensive formation.

  On the planet below it was night. The terminator was already far to the west of them. The lights of the city of Misto Marta lay below them - a small sparkle of life embedded in thousands of square miles of darkness. Even as she watched, the city lights winked out, as the city went to blackout in the face of an enemy attack.

  “What do we have, Captain Bekerose?” she asked, addressing the nearby Nidarian who had just finished conferring with the Tactical Officer. Her Flag Captain turned and approached the raised platform, leaning on the railing as he spoke.

  “I hope it’s just another raid, milady. But they’re coming out in force, that’s for certain. Six battlecruisers, twelve cruisers, sixteen destroyers. I’ve ordered defensive plan Mike-Sierra if that meets with your approval.”

  “It’s a feint,” said Rita flatly. “They’re not ready for a full-scale battle yet. This is just another test to see how we react.”

  “I think so too, milady. Thus Mike-Sierra. It allows us to position for defense, but without giving away too much.”

  “Bastards. They love interrupting our dinner.”

  Bekerose smiled. To an outsider, Bekerose would have looked strange - a humanoid, but with ears that seemed a bit too high on the head. A mouth in the right place - but a small, flattened bump where a Human would expect to see a nose. Five feet nine inches tall - 175 centimeters - Bekerose dwarfed nearly all other Nidarians on the ship, with the notable exception of Rita’s senior bodyguards Gabriel and Raphael.

  And as always when at Battle Stations, those two were positioned by the entrance to Rita’s day cabin, pulse rifles in hand, standing at a loose parade rest. The average Nidarian was only about five feet tall - 152 centimeters - but Gabriel and Raphael stood a full three inches taller than Bekerose. By Nidarian standards, they were giants.

  Nidarians had been in space for more than twenty-five thousand years. They were the most valuable spacers in Rita’s fleet. Without them…

  Without my Nidarians, thought Rita, there wouldn’t be any Humans left. The Ashkelon would have wiped us out long ago. And my wonderful Nidarians even fought against their own kind to save us - because they had promised us. That’s called honor…

  “…so if they follow the pattern of the last raid, they’ll pull us out of the orbitals, wait until we take up our defensive positions, make a single attack pass, then veer off and return to Ridendo,” Bekerose finished.

  Rita realized she had been distracted. But she got the gist of Bekerose’ comment.

  “Let’s not assume, though. It could be a full-on attack. I don’t think so, because they didn’t bring enough ships to really challenge us, but - you never know. Let’s be ready for anything.”

  “Aye, milady,” agreed Bekerose.

  Rita sat back in her chair, trying to relax. Since the Battle of Deriko three months earlier, her fleet had endured two of these raids - this would be the third. All so far had followed the same pattern - a hit and run, a quick nip at the EDF fleet - but no serious attempt to join battle.

  But of course, she had to prepare for the worst-case scenario. Any of the raids could turn into a full-scale battle in a heartbeat. The Ashkelon were dangerous and unpredictable.

  Rita put up a hand and adjusted her helmet slightly. Her jet-black hair had a tendency to grow fast. She had let it get just a bit too thick. It pushed up her helmet a bit, which irritated her.

  Need to get a haircut when this battle is over…it’s so annoying.

  Rachel Gibson, her new Assistant Flag Aide, ran into the bridge, stepped up to the platform, and slammed into the chair on her right, buckling her harness.

  Rita smiled at the young Commander. She had a special fondness for Rachel. In so many ways, Rachel reminded Rita of her friend Bonnie. She didn’t look much like Bonnie, a bit shorter and brunette instead of Bonnie’s blond. But she had Bonnie’s personality - outgoing, competent, unafraid. Always ready with an idea, never shirking her duty, and a perpetual smile that lit up a room.

  In fact, it was Bonnie who had recommended Rachel to Rita’s staff. Rachel had originally been the Assistant Tactical Officer - ATO - on the destroyer Dragon. When Rachel’s Nidarian senior officer Lirrassa had been killed in one of the last battles with the Ashkelon, Rachel had stepped into the Tactical Officer role seamlessly. She had even assumed temporary command of the Dragon for a short period of time and had distinguished herself in that role as well.

  So, immediately after the Battle of Deriko, Bonnie had sent Rachel to the flagship with a message - a note stating that Rachel was command material and should be groomed for promotion. Rita had brought Rachel on to her staff as Assistant Flag Aide - and had not been disappointed. The former Tactical Officer of the Dragon was scary competent.

  Bonnie trained her well. She’s fantastic, thought Rita. I wish I had a dozen like her.

  Leaning over toward her, Rita spoke softly. “Rachel, Captain Dallitta’s down on the surface today. You’ll act as my Flag Aide, so move over to the other chair.”

  Rachel gave Rita a million-dollar smile, unbuckled, and crossed behind Rita to the other chair on Rita’s left, the position of Flag Aide. The position of Flag Aide was a captain’s slot - sitting in this chair was like a temporary promotion. She buckled into the chair and fired up the console in front of it, preparing for battle.

  “Fleet is in position for Mike-Sierra,” called Bekerose.

  Rita studied the holo. Her fleet was now in formation. Eight 200-meter battlecruisers formed a cube a thousand klicks across, with one of the massive ships at each corner. Their interlocking fields of fire allowed them to protect each other. Any enemy vessel entering their range would be in a massive crossfire from all eight battlecruisers - not a healthy place to be. As well, each ship could pivot in any direction to form a new defensive cube.

  And at the front edge of the cube were the battlecruisers of her new allies, the Taegu and the Bagrami. They had been adamant about their place in the formation. They had been brutalized by the Ashkelon for years and were thirsty for revenge. Even now, their home planets were still occupied by the Ashkelon. Rita had gladly allowed them the place of honor in the battlecruiser formation - it was only right.

  A thousand klicks in front of the battlecruiser cube, two additi
onal cubes of warships waited side by side, forming a blocking force in front of the battlecruisers. Each of these cubes contained eight 160-meter cruisers - a formation whose combined firepower nearly equaled that of the battlecruisers. Any enemy trying to get to the battlecruisers would have to pass them first - and that would not be easy.

  And finally, a thousand klicks ahead of the cruisers, sixteen destroyers waited. These highly maneuverable ships of 125 meters would take the first shock of battle.

  Also arranged in two cubes, the destroyers were tasked to provide a wall of protection for the cruisers behind them. As the enemy came into range, they would fall back toward the cruiser formation, laying down a wall of defensive fire against the enemy’s fighters - and taking any opportunity to prick at the Ashkelon destroyers.

  “We’re ready, milady,” Rachel said beside Rita.

  Rita nodded an acknowledgment.

  Here they come. And it may only be a raid, but people will die. They always do.

  “Launch fighters,” Rita called.

  Sol System - Earth

  United Nations Building - Beijing, China

  “Right now she’s stalemated. She sits in the Ashkelon system, facing off with them like a gunfighter in some Old West movie! But she doesn’t have the forces to take them out. And she knows that! And still she won’t give up, bring the fleet back to Earth! She’s leaving us utterly exposed! We have to take action!”

  Ken Elliott, newly appointed Grand Admiral of the UNSF - the United Nations Space Force - practically yelled his last statement. His tirade had gone on for several minutes. And the subject of his ire was one person - Rita Page, Fleet Admiral of the EDF.

  And there was one fact that really drove Elliott over the edge. Even though the U.N. coordinated the manufacture of new warships for the fleet, and the recruitment of new personnel, and the transport of supplies to the fleet - Rita Page would not take orders from him. She considered herself independent of the U.N.

  Across from Elliott, Ingrid Stoltenberg, Secretary-General of the United Nations, glanced briefly to her left. There sat Zhao Zemin, Premier of the State Council of China - the real power behind the throne in the modern U.N. But Zemin held his peace, waiting for someone else to respond.

  On Ingrid’s right, Viktoria Chernenko, Prime Minister of the Russian Federation, nodded in slow agreement.

  “We don’t disagree with you,” said Viktoria cautiously. “She’s sitting there at Deriko like a bug on a leaf. God knows what she’s thinking.”

  Taking Viktoria’s cautious statement for more than it was, Elliott spoke excitedly. “We have to force her to bring every ship back to Earth! We have to put a ring of warships around our planet and prepare for the Ashkelon! Staying there in their own system, facing them down eyeball to eyeball - that’s insane!”

  Zemin finally spoke. “I think you should do whatever is required to bring that fleet back to defend Earth. That is the whole point of creating the U.N. Space Force - to centralize the command of all space forces from every country into one. And therefore it makes sense for us to force the EDF under the umbrella of the UNSF.”

  “Then I have your support? To take whatever action is necessary?” asked Elliott.

  Zemin hesitated. “Within reason, Admiral. I’m sure you understand, China cannot be overtly involved. Admiral Page has tremendous public support. She has saved Earth from the Ashkelon not once, but twice. She is incredibly popular among the masses. They think she walks on water. Whatever you do, you must do it quietly - no negative publicity. Put her out to pasture or promote her to a desk job. Something like that. But nothing obvious.”

  Elliott, his emotions settling down as he realized he had won the decision, grunted in frustration. “I would prefer to just kill her, actually. We all know she’s some kind of misbegotten clone. A creature of the devil.”

  Ingrid Stoltenberg looked at Elliott, trying to hide the horror in her mind. Elliott’s predilection toward overt religious zealotry was well known. He claimed to be a Christian. He went to church, contributed to charity, made great display of his faith. But anyone who knew him quickly realized he was a CINO - a Christian in name only. It was amazing to Ingrid that he had achieved his high position. She would never have let him into the role of Admiral of the new U.N. Space Force if she had been able to control the appointment.

  But it had been out of her hands.

  The Chinese control the U.N. now, thought Ingrid. With the change of headquarters to Beijing and the creation of a UN Space Force, they’re sitting in the catbird seat. They got everything they wanted. Including an admiral they could control. And non-thinking religious zealots like Elliott are easy to control - you don’t have to delude them, they delude themselves.

  And the Chinese are masters at pretending to give him what he wants. They keep him twisted right round their little finger.

  Lord, why did President Hager allow this to happen? What a tremendous mistake - just for an agreement to let Taiwan have independence, and to help rein in Iran? Foolish, foolish. What was Hager thinking?

  Now they’ll use the U.N. as a club to batter the rest of the world forever…and by creating the U.N. Space Force, they will effectively control every military asset in space.

  Except Rita and the EDF. I have to go along with this for now. But I must find some way to checkmate Elliott and the Chinese, without being too obvious about it.

  “No, Admiral. No bloodshed. This must be done smoothly, carefully,” Viktoria said.

  Ingrid came back to the present, glanced at Zemin to see if he would offer any further comment. But he stayed silent, looking down at his briefing papers.

  So if this all goes south, Zemin can claim he wasn’t involved in the actual details. Typical.

  Across from Ingrid, Elliott closed his eyes and shuddered, as if he were undergoing some kind of religious fit. But then he opened his eyes and nodded understanding.

  “Yes, I understand. No bloodshed. Just find a way to get her back here to Earth, take the fleet away from her, and tuck her away where she can do no harm.”

  Zemin nodded at last. He knew that he had to give the final blessing, at least for Elliott’s benefit.

  “I perceive you have understanding, Admiral. China will provide you with any personnel or materials that you need. Quietly, of course. Just inform my aide Li Xiulian and it will be done.”

  Elliott, now happily excited, made a slight bow of the head to Zemin. “Thank you, Premier. Your understanding and support are greatly appreciated.”

  Zemin stood, signifying the top-secret meeting was over. The other three stood as well. Ingrid watched in disgust as Elliott made a full-on Oriental-type bow to Zemin.

  The way Elliott fawns over him, you’d think he’s some kind of royalty!

  Viktoria stepped forward and shook hands with Zemin. Ingrid knew she should follow suit, but she was too disgusted at the moment to do it. Instead, she pretended to be busy collecting her tablet and other items from the table. Finally, Viktoria and Ingrid followed Zemin out of the room, their handlers picking them up in the hallway. While Zemin disappeared to the right, Ingrid and Viktoria turned left. Reaching the landing that led to the rooftop heliport, Ingrid stopped to say goodbye to Viktoria.

  “Have a safe trip, Prime Minister.”

  Viktoria offered her hand and Ingrid shook it. Then she waited patiently as Viktoria was led up the stairs to the heliport by her minders. There, a plain-wrapper Chinese executive helicopter waited to take her to the airport.

  In an hour, Viktoria would be wheels-up, heading back to Moscow. Except for Elliott, Ingrid, and Zemin, no one outside her Chinese minders, the crew of her plane, and her President would know Viktoria had traveled to Beijing.

  Returning to her top-floor office, Ingrid thought about what had just occurred.

  Against my will, I was forced to give the green light to a half-crazy religious zealot to perform a coup on the Admiral of the EDF - and force the EDF fleet to return to Earth and put itself under the comm
and of the U.N.

  God help us. I must find some way to block this. Without the Chinese killing me.

  Chapter Two

  Ashkelon System - Planet Deriko

  Destroyer Dragon

  “Here they come,” called Commander Luke Powell from his XO console. “Looks like we drew the lucky straw this time. They’re coming right at us, trying to nip off a corner.”

  Commodore Bonnie Page nodded from her slightly elevated command chair, behind and to the left of Luke’s. In the holo, she could see the attacking Ashkelon formation veer upward and to her relative right, toward the top right of the cube of destroyers, trying to isolate one corner of it while staying out of range of the other side. At the same time, the enemy went to heavy deceleration, slowing down to battle speed.

  Reflexively, Bonnie glanced at the pressure gauge on the left thigh of her pressure suit. She tapped it to ensure it was reading correctly. Since she had been ejected into space from the Dragon six months earlier while fighting an Ashkelon cruiser, she just couldn’t stop doing it.

  She knew it was a nervous tic; she had already checked the gauge twice since battle stations were sounded. She looked up to see if anyone had noticed.

  No one was looking at her. But she saw a tiny smile crease Luke’s face.

  Not much escapes him.

  Without turning his head to look at her, Luke raised his left hand slightly and crossed his thumb over his forefinger.

  It was their secret sign of love.

  Smiling, Bonnie stared at the holo at the front of the bridge. She straightened in her chair, making a decision.

  “Destroyer Cube One execute plan Squaredance-Two,” she called out loud. The AI of the ship responded immediately.

 

  She saw her four leftmost destroyers begin to move smoothly across the formation to the right, passing the line of ships that had originally formed the right side of the cube. The dance of warships looked complex, but her group had practiced this movement a hundred times, both in the simulator and in actual maneuvers. The crossing movement of the ships was designed to confuse the enemy, to provide some level of deception as to their final intent. By the time the enemy came into range, they would have formed a new cube re-centered to meet the oncoming threat.