The Battlestar Glory Ch. 01

(This is not a sexy story. It is a space war thriller.)

From the log of War Admiral Norman North, Commander, 7th fleet:

We were caught with our guard down, and humanity paid a terrible price for it. We had battled the Insects, a race of sentient seven foot tall insects, to a standstill in twenty years of terrible combat. We had taken losses, but our worlds secure, and most of our people were safe.

And then the politicians, lured by a gullible desire to believe the overtures of chief negotiator with the Insects, the traitor Mitterand, agreed to an armistice at Vitalics. There they ambushed and destroyed almost all of our entire fleet.

Almost all. The small fleet under my command, combined with a task force from our junior Alliance partner, the June Directorate, survived, but was forced to flee vastly superior numbers of Insect battlecruisers and battleships. Nothing stopped the Insects from moving in, occupying all our worlds and enslaving our people, putting them to work producing material for their war machine.

But the Insects were smart enough to realize that as long as any of us were free that we were still a threat to them, that someday we would come back and reclaim what was rightfully ours. They sent many fleets to hunt us down, even as we've fled Alliance space into the unknown. We've had two brief battles since we left Orotis, on the edge of Alliance space, and those two battles have cost us three warships (and a badly damaged fourth that had to be scuttled), as well as two of our precious merchantmen.

Our efforts to escape are not merely a mindless route; we are moving with a purpose, even if our crews do not fully understand or agree with it. For we are going to search out the technology of the Monumentals, the ancient civilization who may hold the key to helping us defeat the Insects. But the Insects are bent on making sure we don't survive long enough to make any discoveries, and our most immediate task right now is simple: escape from the Insects.

********

Rewind: The day of the attack at Vitalics.

Finally, there would be peace.

Humanity had been in conflict with the Insects for nearly 20 years. They had appeared out of nowhere--giant, seven feet tall intelligent insects bent on conquering the human race. And, for a time, with their flood of destroyers, cruisers, and battleships, it appeared they would win. It was only at the decisive battle of Trajinar, three years earlier, that the Alliance fleet under the command of War Admiral Norman North had turned the tide and decisively crushed the Insect fleet.

After that, battles became skirmishes, skirmishes became hit and run raids, and then the Insects ceased their attacks altogether. They had contacted one of the Alliance's most respected ministers, Lawrence Mitterand, and sued for peace.

And peace there would be. After a year of slow but steady negotiation, Mitterand had worked out a peace agreement that both sides could agree to.

League President Hov Marshall looked out from the bridge of his mighty flagship the Augustus at the rest of the fleet. He shielded his eyes from the powerful glare of Vitalics' brilliant sun as he stared at the assembled ships. Nearly the entire League fleet was here for the armistice with the Insects. The League was the dominant partner in the Alliance; the junior partner, the June Directorate, had chosen not to participate in the armistice, but had agreed to abide by the terms of the ceasefire.

Well, Marshall wasn't going to let the Directorate spoil things.

"Ze Insect fleet is here," said Mitterand, standing by his side. "Finally, ve will have ze peace," he said in his old westeuro accent.

"Admiral Peterson, order the fleet to a halt," Marshall as he eyed the approaching Insect Fleet.

"Fleet command: hold here," said the Admiral over the central comm.

The Insect fleet maintained a healthy distance from the League fleet. Only four of their larger ships slowly moved towards the League Fleet, each moving towards a different part of the fleet.

"Admiral, I'm getting some weird readings from those ships," said a bridge crewer. "The scanners seem to say that they have some kind of unstable cargo."

"Cargo? What kind of cargo?"

At that moment external ports opened on the giant ships, which rapidly spat out a series of oval objects which speeded towards the densely packed League fleet. As they closed on the fleet these spheres started to detonate, casting a fine mist over the League fleet.

"Power drain!" cried a crewer. "All systems are down!" cried another.

"What's going on?" said Marshall.

"Ve must continue ze peace process," said Mitterand, almost mechanically. "Ve need ze peace like ve need ze air."

And it was at that moment that the Insects attacked.

Still staying well clear of the League fleet and the mist that enveloped, the Insect ship launched a massive wave of missiles. The tail section of the missile exhausts cut out as they entered the misty area, but inertia caused them to continue moving forward.

Peterson eyed the missiles streaking towards them. "Raise shields! Activate anti missile lasers!"

"We can't sir, we've lost all power except emergency batteries!" said one of the crewers, frantically turning switches on and off again.

The Augustus was rocked as a missile hit it amidships, causing everyone on the bridge to stumble momentarily. Other missiles slammed into other ships of the fleet, all of which were helpless and dead in space. Several of the destroyers, not large enough to survive a direct impact, burst into pieces.

"What's going on here?" said Marshall. "This was supposed to be an armistice!"

"All ships to battlestations, repel attackers!" Admiral Peterson shouted into the hectic fleetcom channel. But with so many voices over the comm he couldn't make himself heard. Not that it mattered; most of the fleet was disabled, as dead as museum pieces.

The Insects launched a second wave.

"Ve must continue ze peace process," said Mitterand mechanically.

Marshall, almost out of his mind, grabbed Mitterand by the shirt. "What are you talking about? They're blowing us to pieces!"

Another set of missiles slammed into the fleet. This time a number of cruisers were seriously damaged, several of them critically. One blew up just starboard of the Augustia, creating a white flash which shook the flagship.

"Ve must continue ze peace process," said Mitterand.

"Stop saying that!" Marshall shrieked, shaking Mitterand and slapping him hard in the face. What happened next surprised him even more.

Mitterand's face came off, revealing wiring and circuitry underneath, with sparkling orbs for eyes.

Marshall reflexively let go, just as another missile slammed into the Augustus, causing him to stumble. "What... are you?"

Moving very quickly, Mitterand grabbed Marshall and started to throttle him. "Peace begets peace begets peace" he said, squeezing Marshall's neck in a crushing grip. There was a crack of broken bones and Marshall was tossed across the bridge. General Peterson reached for his sidearm...

Just as another missile slammed into the bridge. The Augustus was one of the most heavily armored ships in the fleet, but it wasn't intended to operate without shields, and without shields it couldn't survive more than a few direct hits.

The missile blew up much of the forward decks, incinerating the bridge crew instantly. The survivors in the interior sections didn't last much longer either. Missiles from a succeeding wave crashed into the engine section, detonating the fuel supply and creating a miniature sun in the space where the Augustus stood.

This scene was repeated throughout the entire fleet. One after another League ships turned into fireballs, their crews helpless to do anything to defend themselves or even fleet. Within a few minutes, the rest of the fleet was destroyed. So complete was the destruction that there were almost no survivors. Of the 362 ships in the League fleet, only 8 managed to escape the immediate battle. Three of those were quickly hunted down and destroyed; one light cruiser managed to go to ground and her crew joined the planetbound resistance on Whenfor; one destroyer managed to link up with members of the surviving fleet, a battle cruiser and a fast attack destroyer became blockade runners until they were hunted down and destroyed, and one battleship, whose story is told elsewhere, escaped into deep space.

But for all intents and purposes the bulk of the League fleet ceased to exist in a matter of minutes, leaving all the League worlds open to domination by the Insects.

There would be peace, all right, but the peace of the subjugated, the peace of the master and the slave; peace, but on the Insects' terms, and humanity, what elements that survived, would fare very, very poorly.

Chapter 1: Attack at Hunt's World

Further Rewind: Two weeks before the disaster at Vitalics

"It's utter foolishness!" said War Admiral Norman North.

"Watch your tongue, Admiral!" countered Admiral Gubar Peterson, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff for the League of United Worlds. He was addressing a fellow admiral, the legendary Norman North. There were precious few War (four star) Admirals in the League, and although North's permanent rank was Victory Admiral (five star), he had given up that rank to return to active duty in the field. Regardless of his rank, Peterson was technically the top Navy man, and expected proper behavior from all his sailors--even the great Norman North, the hero of Trajinar.

"I still think it's foolish," said North stubbornly, as if he didn't fear anything Peterson could do to him.

"This is a decision of the civilian hierarchy, and we report to them, not the other way around," said Peterson. "Are you saying you are going to go against the orders of our civilian authorities?"

North avoided this obvious trap. "No, of course not, sir." He was already aware of the number of resignations, a number of them forced, over the issue. Some of the best fleet captains and admirals of the line had already resigned in protest; but North was not ready to take that route. That wasn't his way.

Peterson relaxed slightly. "Very well then. You're entitled to have your own personal opinion about peace with the Insects, but keep that opinion to yourself. Now, let's talk about your next assignment." Having taken North down a notch, he felt inclined to be a bit more generous. "I'm prepared to give you some latitude. Where would you like your fleet to be located?"

North felt his mouth drop open. "I had assumed that I would go to Vitalics with the rest of the fleet for the signing of the armistice."

"That's not wise, War Admiral. You yourself pointed out the folly of putting the entire fleet all in one place, leaving our planets undefended. The League President has agreed with your line of thought in this matter. That's why he's permitting you and your fleet to stay behind."

"Meaning he doesn't want me anywhere near Vitalics during the signing."

"That's another way of putting it," said Peterson, allowing himself a grin. "But I'm prepared to give you some latitude in your positioning."

"Latitude?"

"You can base your fleet anywhere you like... as long as it's not within 10 lightyears of Vitalics."

"I see," said North. He turned to a star map, as if thinking, then pointed to a star, "Hunt."

"The Hunt system?" Peterson looked surprised, both at the speed of North's response and his selection. "I would've thought you would've chosen a system 10.1 lightyears from Vitalics, or stationed yourself here on August."

"Hunt will do fine, sir. What forces are under my command?"

"Here's a readout," said Peterson, handing him a datapad. North took a look at it, and bit his lip. 42 ships. About 10% of the fleet. It was almost an insult for a War Admiral to be commanding such a small force. Well, at least he still had the Glory, his flagship, and a fair mix of top of the line and current ships. It would have to do. Peterson was looking at his face to see his reaction, but North forced himself to give a blank expression. "Very well, sir. If you'll excuse me?"

The Glory was an old Command Carrier, one of only four such ships still in existence. But old shouldn't be confused with feeble; although over 300 years old, every part of the Glory except her armor and her bulkheads had been stripped out and replaced several times with upgrades and new components. The Glory was one of those very rare and expensive combinations of a battleship and a fleet carrier.

On the bottom the ship was pure carrier: it had two launching and landing bays capable of holding six squadrons of fighters plus a wide variety of support and transport craft. The Glory currently carried a complement of five squadrons of old but proven assault Wildcats and one squadron of even older Defender heavy bombers. Although both classes of fighters had been in service for over 100 years, the Glory carried a mixture of type 145-D and 150-B Wildcats and type 78-J Defenders, among the most modern versions of these fighters in the fleet.

The top of the Glory was pure battleship, featuring three sets of massive 34 inch laser cannon turrets, side mounted missile launchers, a 22 inch turret in the rear, and a number of small caliber anti-fighter armament. While no longer state of the art compared with the most modern battleships, the Glory could go toe to toe against nearly any ship in the fleet except the most modern superbattleships and dreadnaughts.

In short, the Glory had the teeth of a battleship and the carrying capacity of a carrier. That combination, however, made the Command Carrier line tremendously expensive, which explains why they were discontinued after only eight models, in favor of regular carriers and battleships.

North's shuttle, accompanied by his standard fighter escort, landed in the forward landing bay. His executive officers, Captain Roger Dulin, skipper of the Glory, and Commander Stacy Wren, his first officer, were waiting for him in his ready room.

"Ridiculous!" were Dulin's first words.

"Obviously a trap," said Wren. "Why else would they want to meet at Vitalics?"

"Admiral Peterson said that they considered that neutral territory," said North.

"And it's just a coincidence they chose a meeting place where electromagnetic interference would prevent any communication outside of the system?" said Wren.

"Mitterand said with the entire fleet there we'd have nothing to fear," said North hollowly. Even he didn't pretend to believe what he was saying.

"Mitterand is a traitor!" said Wren savagely.

"Commander-"

"Or at least a dupe," said Dulin. "It doesn't matter which. What are we going to do?"

"Do, Captain?" North raised his eyebrows. "Our orders are to go to Hunt's world and stay put."

"We've got to stop them," said Dulin. "They'll ambush the fleet."

North frowned. "Assuming you're right, how do you propose we stop them? Admiral Peterson is leaving even as we speak, and the bulk of the fleet is already on its way to Vitalics."

"We could catch up to them at top speed before they get there," said Wren.

"And then what?" said North. "Tell them they're going into an ambush, of which I have no proof of? And when the admirals and civilian leaders who are traveling with them tell them to disregard my orders, what then?"

"Tell them not to obey their admirals, if necessary," said Wren. "War Admiral, you've saved us countless times. We all owe you for Trajinar. The fleet will follow you."

North self consciously fingered the silver eagles on the collar of his light blue uniform. "So you're telling me to stage a coup, to overthrow the elected leaders of the League and their military leadership. Do you realize what you're saying?"

"If it has to be done to save us, yes!" cried Wren.

North turned to Dulin. "And you, Captain? What are your views on this?"

"I... I think the fleet will listen to you, sir," said Dulin.

"You realize you're talking about mutiny," said North. "The penalty for which is still capital punishment." He paused, as if he were also fighting a battle with himself. "All right. Let's take your thought experiment a step further. What if we make our big announcement and some ships don't go along? Do we fire on them?"

Dulin was silent.

"Do we shoot at our own sailors? For that matter, what if the majority of the fleet doesn't go along? We'll be vastly outnumbered and outgunned. Are you prepared to be vaporized for mutiny, along with all the other ship captains and senior officers in this fleet?" North asked.

Dulin, choked up, tried to make a sound but nothing came out.

North slowly paced back and forth on the carpeting. "I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about doing something like this too. But it's too risky. Even if we're right, without proof we might not be able to persuade the fleet. And just remember, we may not be right; it's been almost a year since the last skirmish; the Insects may really be suing for peace.

"You don't believe that!" said Wren.

North shook his head. "You're right, I don't. But I'm not certain. And as long as I'm not certain, and an 'intervention' on our part is risky at best, I'm not going to act. Remember that most of the fleet is going there; if there is an ambush being planned, the Insects will have to be strong enough to take out our entire fleet at once. Maybe they won't be foolish enough to try; maybe if they try, they'll fail."

"At the very least we should go to Vitalics too."

North shook his head. "We'd be risking court martial when we got into sensor range. And with only 40 odd ships under my direct command, I'm not sure we could make a difference."

He sighed. "This isn't an easy decision. But I'm not going to overthrow an elected government unless I'm certain they're wrong, and I'm not.... And even if I were, I'm not nearly sure we'd be successful."

"So what do we do now?"

"We go to Hunt's world... and we wait," said North.

**********

The Glory and its accompanying fleet came into orbit around the moon orbiting Hunt's World. Formerly a pioneering world, Hunt had over the centuries gradually evolved into a center of industry and capital and was now the main "money world" in the League. Because of its importance to the financial industry, Hunt's World had a series of battlestations in high orbit around the planet, brimming with weaponry and a full assortment of starfighters.

But, oddly enough, North hadn't stationed his fleet in proximity of the battlestations; instead, much of the fleet were in orbit around Hunt's moon, too far to get support from the weaponry on the battlestations, if needed.

"It's been eight hours," Commander Wren fumed. "Eight hours since the armistice convened.

"Patience, Commander," said North, sitting in his command chair which was set just behind Captain Dulin's. "I'm sure we'll be hearing something soon." He touched the silver eagles on his collar below his four stars, his only sign of restlessness.

"How long does it take them to sign a piece of paper?" Wren fumed.

North gave her a mild look but said nothing.

"Sir, we're getting an incoming communication," said the comm officer, working the receiver. "It's faint, but I think it's from the fleet. We can only get audio."

A few seconds later there was a hissing sound and then, "--under attack. This is Captain Tirako of the Cruiser Impulse. We are under attack by a fleet of Insect ships-"

North's voice was immediate, but it was also calm. "Captain Tirako, this is War Admiral Norman North of the Glory. What happened to the fleet?"

"... fleet... destroyed. All destroyed. Glory, they're firing again!" There was an explosion, then a crackle, and the line went dead.

"Captain, I'm picking up a fleet of Insect ships at extreme range, closing rapidly," said the scanner officer.

For a moment, the bridge was incredibly silent.

"I think we have our answer," said North, very slowly, in a very soft voice, as if he had difficulty speaking. He looked grimmer than Wren had ever seen him.

"Battle Stations."

The attacking fleet was not, of course, the same one that had conducted the ambush at Vitalics; Vitalics, still days away, was too far away. Instead, this smaller Insect fleet had started out several days before the Vitalics ambush occurred, timing their arrival to come just after the Vitalics rendezvous had taken place.

"I'm reading 78 combat ships,' said the scanner officer. "12 battleships, 14 battlecruisers, 27 cruisers, the rest an assortment of smaller ships."

"They knew exactly where we were," North muttered, his heart sinking as he stared at the line of massive battleships on the screen. The Insects had a two to one advantage in ships, but probably a three to one advantage in weapons; while the Insects had 12 battleships and 14 battlecruisers, North's fleet had only the Glory, and a pocket battleship, the Blue Luna, and four battlecruisers. The rest were standard cruisers and other combat vessels. It would be a tough fight, and everyone knew it. Normally, North's cruisers wouldn't stand a chance against Insect battleships. But North had a few surprises planned that would help even the odds, if everything worked as planned.

North raised his voice, "Only 78 ships? They must be feeling overconfident." He touched a button on his console to open a channel to interfleet. "This is War Admiral Norman North. By now you have heard of the destruction of the main part of our fleet. I won't deceive you with some public relations doubletalk and say that everything will be fine."

He paused a brief moment to let that sink in, and then continued.

"But I will say that whatever has happened to the main fleet, we are still alive and the Insects haven't won until they've beaten us. We've defeated the Insects before and we will again, as long as we continue to be a coherent combat force. That's why it's vital we win this encounter with a minimum of losses."

The War Admiral paused again.

"There will be time for grieving later. For now I expect you all to give your best. Prepare to conform to attack plan Hunt 1 exactly as we rehearsed it. Good luck. North out."

The previous silence was replaced by a babble of voices as bridge officers readied their stations for combat.

The Insect Admiral, a junior Queen, was puzzled. She had expected North's forces to be stationed in high orbit around Hunt, to take advantage of the defenses afforded by the battlestations. She had been prepared to conduct a standoff attack with missiles to destroy the battlestations first. Instead North had his forces strung out around Hunt's moon, where the battlestation weapons wouldn't be effective and where even the battlestation's fighters would take several minutes to engage. The Insects had fought Norman North too long to underestimate him, and yet the Insects still couldn't see what North was trying to achieve or why he would take such an obviously inferior defensive stance.

The Admiral studied the scanner interface. It was a pity they didn't have the same suppression equipment they used at Vitalics; but there had been barely enough there to get the job done there. Well, they'd have to conduct this battle more conventionally. Either way, the result would be the same.

"Order the attack," the Admiral ordered.

The Insect attack fleet closed in a narrow formation. During their first attack they intended to punch through the human fleet, currently in low orbit. Then, while their formation was disrupted, the Insects would engage the enemy one-on-one until they were all destroyed. The Insect Admiral had competed with others to have the honor of destroying the great Norman North. She wondered what kind of honor the Queen would bestow upon her when she brought the Queen his head.

Her attention snapped back to the present as her fleet plowed through the human fleet, firing madly at their ships. The human shields were holding up, but so were those of the Insect ships. The Insects, having gone past the human fleet and between it and Hunt's moon, started to brake, and turn, and...

Brilliant beams of light shot up from the surface of Hunt's moon, impacting on several of the Insect ships. The Insect Admiral turned her scanners to the moon and saw, for the first time, that portable laser batteries had been set up on the surface. Where had they come from?

She had no time to wonder, because even as those laser batteries opened fire, dozens if not hundreds of fighters were streaming out of hidden caves beneath the moon's surface. Where were all those fighters coming from? North's fleet didn't have nearly that many fighters, according to the intelligence reports. Then the Admiral immediately figured it out: they must have been moved from their berths in the battlestation to the moon. When had this been done?

And then explosions started to come on a new front; as the Insect fleet braked and turned, heading away from the moon, some of them slammed into mines! The Insect Admiral checked her short range scanner. There was a thick layer of mines between the human fleet and the moon. How had the humans known that they would arrive at this exact spot?

North's fleet closed on the Insect ships, which continued to be pounded by surface fire and, a few moments later, by squadrons of 145-B and even more nimble 150-D Wildcats streaming out of the surface. The Insect Admiral, realizing that being sandwiched by North's fleet on one side and the moon's laser emplacements and fighters on the other was a recipe for disaster, ordered her fleet to break off and cut through the line of North's ships to get to the relative safety of open space.

But in doing so the fleeing Insect ships lost their carefully planned formation and bearings and became open targets for North's fleet. North's cruiser groups raked them with fire as they passed. A number of Insect ships also slammed into mines on their way out, causing heavy damage.

When the Insect ships cleared the mine field and steered out of range of the moon's guns they moved to reform into their original squadrons, but War Admiral North's fleet gave them no quarter.

By the time the Insect fleet had moved off and reformed, while still under constant attack from North's fleet, 37 ships had either been destroyed or heavily damaged, including five of the battleships and seven of the battlecruisers, and North's fleet hadn't lost a single ship. But if the two fleets were now roughly even in size the Insect fleet was still more powerful, its battleships and battlecruisers capable of outgunning any ship in North's fleet in a one-on-one battle, except perhaps for the Glory.

But it wasn't simply to be a ship to ship battle. Fighters, nearly 300 of them, swarmed up from the moons surface, attacking key Insect battle groups.

One fighter attacking a capital ship can almost be ignored. Three or four fighters attacking a capital ship is an irritant. But 20 fighters armed with heavy rockets can make short work of a cruiser or even a larger capital ship. A number of them were converted Defender heavy bombers with several payloads of ordinance.

North's fleet was careful to only engage the Insect battlegroups already under heavy attack from the fighters. Whenever one of the Insect battlegroups not under fighter attack tried to engage North's fleet, his ships carefully maneuvered out of the way to try to keep the besieged Insect fleet groups between them and the ones not under fighter attack. In fact, at any given moment half of North's fleet refused to engage, simply playing cat and mouse with battleships and battlecruisers not under fighter attack.

The fighters did quick work, not waiting to destroy Insect ships but rather halting attacks when they had achieved heavy damage, and moved in groups of 20 and 30 to attack the next ship.

"Engage them!" cried the Insect Admiral. In their rush to get here they hadn't brought any fighters of their own, but the Insect Admiral thought that their overwhelming number of capital ships would even out that advantage. Then again, the Insect Admiral hadn't expected to face 300 heavily armed fighters, more than triple the number normally assigned to the Glory.

"We can't," said an Insect officer. "They keep running from us!"

But as the number of undamaged Insect ships dwindled down to 25, the bulk of North's fleet did turn and engage the Insects, even those not currently under fighter attack. A cruiser couldn't take on a battlecruiser, one to one, but three of them could. The Glory directly engaged one of the two remaining Insect battleships, while the pocket battleship Blue Luna, in the company of a destroyer squadron, engaged the other. The Insect fleet struck out at the human ships, damaging a number of them, but the momentum was on North's side.

When the number of Insect ships remaining dropped to less than 20, the Insect Admiral gave the order to retreat.

"Pursue and destroy!" cried North from the bridge of the Glory. The fleet pounded the Insects as they retreated, following them to the edge of the system and disabling or destroying four more of their ships. At the system's edge North called the fleet back to deal with the surviving damaged Insect ships who were trying to limp from the field.

The fleet opened fire on the damaged Insect ships on orders from the Glory. Captain Dulin didn't ask War Admiral North if he wanted them to rescue any Insect survivors, and War Admiral North, grim faced, said nothing. After the slaughter at Vitalics, no one was in the mood to take prisoners.

When it was all over Admiral North assessed the damage. Seven ships, three cruisers and four destroyers had been destroyed or heavily damaged. The rest of the fleet had suffered light damage, except for one cruiser whose engines had been knocked out.

"Transfer the survivors from these seven ships aboard our battlecruiser group," commanded North. "The cruiser with the damaged drive section, the Larata, how long before it can be made spaceworthy?"

"Our techs think two hours," said Captain Dulin.

North calculated how long it would take them to get the fighters back onboard. "We leave in one hour," said North. "If they can make it spaceworthy by then, they can accompany us; if not, they can play catchup."

"Where are we going in such a hurry, sir?" Dulin asked.

"June," said North. June was the Capital of the June Directorate, the junior coalition partner in the Alliance with the League. Now that the League fleet, except for North's battlegroup, was largely destroyed, the Directorate's fleet was the only other allied fleet left. It was smaller than the League fleet, but their ships were technologically advanced and their navy had a solid reputation as capable fighters.

"Get me Admiral Zarat of the June Directorate fleet," North said.

There was a pause and the holographic display crackled but remained otherwise silent. "We can't, sir, there's some interference."

"Jamming," said North. "They could already be under attack." He resisted the urge to order their immediate departure. If they left now, they'd have to leave most of the fighters behind.

The Glory was officially rated to carry six squadrons of fighters but to help carry the additional fighters from the Hunt battlestations would now be carrying eight. In addition, each surviving ship would also be carrying a handful of fighters in their hanger bays. All said and done the fleet could now carry 200 fighters. The local Hunt military authority wasn't thrilled to lose half of its fighter support, but North pulled rank and gave them no choice.

"Get those fighters aboard as quickly as possible," said North, looking at his chronometer and privately fuming. Time was so precious!

Well, there was still one thing he could do. "Get me Battle General Tenor Markov, commander, ground forces on August, Sarney Sarittenden Central Command HQ." A Battle General was a three star general, the highest practical rank in the ground forces. Although there was theoretically one higher rank, that of War General, that rank was generally unfilled and reserved for great war heroes. Currently, only the head of the joint chiefs held that rank, and that was currently an Admiral, Ruber Peterson. Who was almost certainly dead.

The comm officer opened a line to August.

August. The capital of the Alliance.

North's hands figited as he wondered if communications had been jammed there too. Which could only mean the attack had already begun there as well.

But after a few tense moments the screen crackled and Markov's face filled his holocommunicator.

"War Admiral," he said curtly. A loud babble of voices could be heard in the background on Markov's end.

"You've heard the news," said North, referring to the transmission from the ship that briefly escaped the ambush at Vitalics.

"We did. Was the entire fleet really destroyed?"

"We have no way of knowing without going and taking a look," said North. "But if we haven't heard from anyone else by now, it's a safe bet that there aren't entire battlegroups in silent running."

"The entire fleet," said Markov, trying to wrap his mind around it. "And the President, and the joint chiefs... and the cabinet... all gone..." He paused a moment, as if lost in thought, then snapped back into reality. "And your battlegroup?"

North checked the scrambler controls. They flashed green. He looked up at Markov. "We had a little ambush of our own, but we're fine. We have only 34 ships left, so there's not much we can do."

"Understood. What do you recommend?"

"The Insects will be coming," said North. "Your orbital defenses will not be able to hold out long. My suggestion is that you abandon your military headquarters and disperse your troops and prepare for ground assault. Your best strategy, if there is any best strategy, is protracted guerrilla warfare to wear the enemy down."

Markov's face showed that the implications of this were slowly sinking in. "Protracted? How long is protracted?"

North lowered his voice, though he knew the entire bridge crew could still hear him. "We're about to go into battle again, General." Picking his words carefully, he said, "I don't know when, or if, we'll be able to communicate again. I suggest you wipe your command files and-"

"Just a moment!" a third voice intervened, splitting into their two-way communication. The face of Vice President Novacan appeared. "Admiral North, where are you going?"

"Into battle, sir," said North, picking his words carefully. Scrambler or no, this communication could be tapped and deciphered, with the right access codes. With the President, his senior military and civilian advisers, and most of the cabinet at Vitalics, only Vice President Novacan had been left behind to mind affairs on August.

"Where are you going? Admiral, I order you to return to August to secure the defense of our homeworld!" said the Novacan.

"Minister, our small fleet will be no match for the overwhelming force the Insects will throw at us-"

"You're not paid to think, Admiral!" Novacan snapped. "I'm issuing a direct order for you to return immediately!"

North paused a moment. "No." he said. It was obvious to everyone on the bridge that he omitted the "sir".

"No? No what?" said Novacan.

"No, we're not returning."

"Admiral North, you are relieved of command! Captain Dulin!"

"Sir?" said Dulin, stepping forward promptly.

"You are to take command of the fleet and return to August immediately."

"No sir!" said Dulin, just as promptly.

"This is treason! You'll be vaporized for this!"

"No," said North slowly. "What you and your administration have done is treason. You have lowered our guard and cost the lives of thousands of loyal sailors whose only fault was following your orders. We will no longer listen to yours." He turned as if to terminate connections.

"Where are you taking your fleet? Are you going to run away? Coward!" Novacan spat.

North turned back, murder in his eyes. "Yes, I'm a coward," he said slowly. "I've been giving the subject a lot of thought lately. I'm a coward for not arresting you, the President, and the Joint Chiefs when I had the chance. I'm a coward for not taking power when I should have. I was afraid of taking action. This is the result of my inaction. My inaction" He repeated it, for emphasis. "I don't know if we'll survive this, but if, by some miracle we do, I won't make the same mistake twice," he said, his voice deadly grim. "Goodbye, Minister, and try to take a kinder tone with your new Insect masters."

He terminated communications. The bridge crew was speechless. North turned to Wren. "Are the fighters aboard yet?" he said quietly.

"Another few minutes, sir."

"Is the League network still up?"

The comm officer checked, then nodded. "For the most part." The Insects hadn't yet gotten the chance to disrupt the League-wide communication network.

"Activate the League wide network. Use our priority military code."

"Online."

North took a deep breath. He would now be addressing the senior military, political and administrative leaders and staff throughout the League. "This is War Admiral Norman North. A few hours ago, it appears that most if not all of the League fleet sent to the Vitalics armistice was destroyed in an ambush. As President Marshall unwisely sent nearly the entire fleet to Vitalics, we are now left open and defenseless to an Insect invasion."

He paused for a moment to let this sink in.

"The Insects will be coming, in some worlds in a matter of hours, and others in a few days. Worlds on the outskirts of the League may be lucky enough to have a few weeks, but they will come, sooner or later. This is a terrible time for the League; we have been led to defeat by the naivete and incompetence of our leaders."

"But ultimately we are the ones at fault, we, through our complacency and nearsightedness and preoccupation with consumption and pleasure, who elected the Marshall and his cronies on their unrealistic "peace now" plank. President Marshall is no longer around to pay for his mistakes, but we are. I have spent most of my adult life fighting to defend what we hold so dear, and now we are about to lose it."

"To those of you who still value freedom, who are still willing to fight for it, I call on you to rise up and resist. Form small, mobile tactical groups. Harass the Insects and make them pay for their occupation. Sabotage Insect installations and kill as many Insects as you can. It will be a long and difficult fight, but eventually we can make the price of occupation too expensive for them to pay."

"As for myself, as long as I am alive the Insects have not fully conquered the fleet. Never forget that as you fight on the ground I will be here, in space, fighting for you as well. Mark my words: someday we will meet again, and the next time we do, we will regain our hard-won freedom once again."

"This is War Admiral Norman North, signing off. Good luck to all of you."

If the bridge had been merely stunned by North's communication with Defense Minister Novacan, they were overwhelmed by North's message to the League. It was one thing to know that they had been defeated; to hear it from North's lips, however, gave it a new weight and reality that was only now sinking in.

Dulin moved closer to North's command chair. "Ah, sir, do you think it was really wise to blame the people for this?" he said, in a low voice.

"Wise?" said North, raising an eyebrow. "I don't care. They're responsible. I've fought my entire life for these people, and look at them! Most of them are parasites simply living off their rohelpers and holopics, and haven't worked a day in their lives. They voted for Marshall because war was "inconvenient" and peace was the easy thing. Our rise in technology and productivity was supposed to make life easier, but when it reached the point when technology enabled the population to stop working and simply seek out pleasure, it set a moral decay in place. Quite frankly I'm tired of people who have no interest in defending themselves. I signed on to defend people, not spineless jellyfish, and that's what our society has become. When the Insects arrive, many of them will learn what hardship is like for the first time. Many of the survivors, that is," said North, his tone so angry and bitter that Dulin almost didn't recognize it. But then he addressed Dulin directly, and that legendary calm was back. "Are the fighters aboard yet?"

Dulin distracted, quickly turned to check his board. "Uh, Yes sir. And I'm showing temporary repairs to the cruiser have been completed as well."

"Compliment the repair crew on their fine work," said North unemotionally. "Let's get under way. Set course for June, maximum speed."