The Battlestar Glory Ch. 02

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

Chapter 2: The Brief Battle for June

Admiral Whyold Zarat was the soldier in charge of the Directorate's fleet defenses.

North's opinion of the League's civilian leadership was only slightly lower than Admiral Zarat's opinion of the Directorate's civilian leadership. Until one year ago the Directorate, the junior partner in the Alliance with the League, was under the brilliant leadership of Steven Quick. Quick, widely accepted as a supergenius, had founded the Directorate and ran it as an enlightened dictatorship for as long as Zarat could remember.

Quick took over from the previous corrupt and inefficient bureaucrats of the old Cahill Republic and created a model of government that even the League, which had a traditional disdain for dictatorships, found so admirable that they sent their people over to study how their bureaucracy worked. Quick also built up and modernized the Directorate fleet and made it a vibrant partner in its coalition with the League, especially during the early years of the war against the Insects.

But all that changed a year ago when Quick's ship blew up under what could only be termed suspicious circumstances. Quick's handpicked successor, Administrator (now Director) Tel Kalin immediately took over, and quickly made a mess of things.

First there was the explosion of the reactor at the enormous military base on Tentus IV. Somehow a chain reaction started which vaporized the base. The result: 20,000 sailors and their families dead, 20 ships lost. It was a tremendous blow to fleet morale. Kalin made things worse by pinning the blame on several of the Directorate's most distinguished Admirals, forcing a number of them into retirement before their time, even though most of them had nothing to do with the accident on Tentus.

Then as part of a "modernization" program Kalin retired fifteen perfectly capable ships of the line before their replacements were made ready. In fact, since Kalin had taken over, Zarat hadn't seen a single replacement ship come off the assembly lines. There were "problems in production" he was told.

Then the final straw came two months ago when a drive explosion on one of the newest class of battlecruisers forced all ten of those battlecruisers out of service for "inspection". Despite repeated inquiries, Zarat had had no word on when he was going to get those ships back either.

So there he was commander of a once mighty fleet of a little more than 100 ships, now down to a demoralized group of 55 ships, all because of the incompetence of their leadership. There was already talk in the ranks about getting rid of Kalin and putting a new leadership in place, a military leadership, and if the situation didn't improve soon, Zarat might be forced to take sides. Kalin's predecessor, Quick, had been a civilian, but he had shown by example that he knew how to run the military. Kalin didn't have that touch.

Currently the fleet was stationed in orbit around June, the capital of the Directorate. Well, at least Kalin had had the good sense not to agree to send the fleet to this ridiculous armistice the League had agreed to with the Insects. Zarat knew it would be a trap; the only question in his mind is how many League ships would survive the trap. There had been no word from the League fleet since the meeting at Vitalics had begun, several hours earlier.

"Admiral, I'm getting a communication from Director Kalin, for your eyes only," said a crewer.

Kalin entered his ready room, and keyed in a code. A hologram of the Director appeared in front of his desk.

"Admiral, you're there. Good. Prepare the fleet for attack."

"Attack, sir?" From the Insects? How could they attack this far into their territory without being detected?

"The Insects are about to attack June," said Kalin.

How did Kalin know this? "Sir?"

"We haven't much time. The Insect fleet will outnumber and outgun your fleet by at least two to one. Your orders are to engage them in one pass only."

"One pass only?" This was only getting more confusing. "And then what?"

"Disengage and make for open space. Head out and stay alive as long as possible."

"You would ask us to abandon June after a show of no more than a token resistance!" Despite his dislike for Kalin, Zarat was prepared to obey reasonable orders. But this wasn't a reasonable order, not by a long shot. He should leave the Directorate open to invasion? For a moment Zarat started to think that maybe Kalin wasn't merely incompetent; perhaps he was actually a traitor. That would explain the weakening of the fleet.

"I realize these orders are hard for you to accept. And I also realize that circumstances have forced us to have a rocky relationship."

"Nothing you can say will make me abandon the Directorate. Sir." said Zarat stonily.

Kalin paused, checking something. "This conversation is scrambled. If you stay and fight your fleet will eventually be destroyed. And it's important for your fleet to survive."

"What is the sense of surviving if we're not going to be able to defend our planets?"

Kalin lowered his voice. "I was told, if you resisted this order... I was told to tell you to trust me, I know what I'm doing."

Told? Who tells the First Director to do anything? And then the words struck home. "Trust me, I know what I'm doing." There was only one person in the galaxy who had used that line frequently, when talking to Zarat.

Suddenly, an incredible thought burst into Zarat's mind. Kalin, watching the transformation of his face, nodded. "I see you understand. But you are to tell NO ONE about this conversation, not even your most senior officers." He then proceeded to give Zarat a series of secret instructions that he needed to commit to memory, and also provided him with three names.

"Understood," said Zarat, when he was done. "Director? Will this really work out?"

Kalin sighed. "In the short run.... no. But at least this way we'll have a chance of restoring what we're about to lose."

Zarat swallowed. Well, at least he knew the truth. "What about you, sir, will you need evacuation?"

"Don't worry about me, Admiral, just take your fleet to safety. Kalin out."

Zarat sat alone for a moment. Then he activated ship-to-ship. "I need to speak to the following three officers, alone. Secured channel." He called for the names of three communications officers on three different ships.

When Zarat returned to the bridge he said, "Prepare for battle."

"Battle? Against whom?" said an aide.

"Admiral! A large number of enemy ships are showing on our scopes!" cried the scanner officer. Suddenly, the ship was on alert.

Zarat didn't even ask a single question about the size or composition of the enemy. Instead, he simply said, "Prepare to conduct a single pass. Then set course out of the system."

"We're just leaving?" said an aide, stunned.

"Follow my orders!" Zarat barked.

"Where will we set course?" the aide asked.

Zarat considered for a moment. Kalin had told him to set course for deep space. And yet... War Admiral North's League fleet was at Hunt's World. That was only a stone's throw from June. Suddenly, it all made sense. Zarat had wondered why North had stationed the fleet at Hunt; strategically, it made no sense. But now he realized why; Hunt was the League world nearest to June! North had intended to join forces all along. If he survived whatever the Insects had planned for him, Zarat was sure he would send his ships to June. In fact, he might even be on the way there now.

Zarat checked the long range comm. The Insects were jamming all frequencies. But it all made sense.

"Once we get clear we'll set a course for Hunt." Once they linked up with North's forces, then they would head out into deep space.

The Insect fleet, 70 ships strong, came blazing into the June system. The June orbital defense stations opened fire, and the Directorate Fleet raced out to engage the Insect fleet. But after a few brief seconds of laser fire, the Directorate fleet whipped right past them! The Insects braked and turned in a leisurely fashion, confident that the Directorate Fleet would turn back and meet them.

But the Directorate fleet kept going... all was going according to plan, until they reached the edge of the June system, where they ran into the rearguard, 22 Insect heavy cruisers.

The command chamber on the Insect flagship was filled with holographic displays showing the movements of the Insect fleet across League and Directorate space. Hive Queen Zsst watched the screens with satisfaction, flexing her many arms and tendrils as she chittered softly to herself. She was so distracted that she almost didn't notice the hooded creature enter her chambers. Almost. It was impossible not to notice the curtain of fear that descended everywhere the went.

"All goes well," says Zsst. "The human fleet at Vitalics was completely wiped out."

"I know," said the hooded creature. "But what of Norman North's fleet, or the Directorate fleet?"

"Mere mopping up operations," said Zsst dismissively, waving one of her arms. "Their fleets are small and inconsequential."

"Then how did Norman North's 'small and inconsequential' fleet defeat the much larger one you sent against it?"

"What? How do you know this? I have yet to hear reports-"

"Norman North is alive, and his fleet is intact," said the hooded creature. A hint of green peeked out from under the hood. "And as you know from personal experience, while Norman North is alive, he is a threat. Dispatch three more fleets to find and intercept him."

"I will," said Zsst. "But we will have to try and project where he will go."

"I have already provided this information to the Admirals of your fleet. I launched them on their mission ten minutes ago."

"You gave orders to my fleet!" thundered Zsst.

"To be fair, they thought the orders came from you," said the creature, undisturbed.

"Watch your step, Baraki," said Zsst. "One day you may go too far."

Baraki, the hooded creature, stepped closer to Zsst, saying nothing. Zsst became noticably uncomfortable, and suddenly flinched as if struck, and pulled back.

"We shall see," said Baraki.

"Any word from June?" said North, pacing back and forth in the command area on the bridge.

"There's still jamming in place," said Commander Wren. "We're about halfway there; there's only about four more hours to go. Almost there."

"It's very fortuitous that we happened to be so near June in the first place," Captain Dulin remarked.

If he was asking a question, the War Admiral gave no answer.

"Sir, picking up ships, on the scanner!"

"Battle stations!" said North. Then, over the klaxons, "Identify!"

".... 51 ships... They're Directorate ships, sir, all of them. Looks like they've been in a fight...."

"We should be able to punch through the interference locally. Get me Admiral Zarat."

The holographic field shimmered and a Directorate naval officer dressed in white appeared. "This is Captain Alada of the Directorate Flagship June Defender."

"Where is Admiral Zarat?"

"Admiral Zarat is dead, War Admiral," said Captain Alada. "I count only 34 ships on your end. Where is the rest of your fleet?"

"All destroyed." said North.

"All destroyed?" Alada looked stunned. "At Vitalics?"

"At Vitalics," North confirmed. "I commanded only a small portion of the fleet, and we took some losses when we were ambushed at Hunt's Moon. We came here to help as soon as we could."

"Appreciated, Admiral, but we're quite all right. We only lost four ships in the attack on June."

"How did you escape with such light loses?" said North, frowning.

"We didn't engage the first wave and immediately headed out system. It was only when we ran into the backup group that we took losses; that's when a missile struck the bridge and killed Admiral Zarat-"

"Didn't engage the first wave? Why not?"

"Admiral's orders. Or rather, orders he received from June."

"Really," said North. His frown only grew deeper. "What else were your orders?"

"I'm not sure. Admiral Zarat received them orally in private during a conversation with Director Kalin. All he told me was that we were to link up with you at Hunt's Moon. Beyond that, I don't know what his plans were."

"I see." North was silent for a moment, hands clasped tightly behind his back, as he paced back and forth a moment.

"War Admiral? We have to act," said Alada.

"What? Yes," said North, snapping out of it. "I suggest we travel to Orotis, where we can get resupplied-"

"Orotis is on the far end of the League."

"Precisely. It's probable that the Insects won't have gotten that far yet."

"We have imminent reports of an invasion of Jarja," said Alada. "Twenty two transports, with only ten escort ships. We could take them easily."

"What about the fleet following you?" North said.

"We have no indications we've been followed; they're probably just as happy that they've chased us away from June."

"Assuming you're correct, how do you know there's not a secondary escort fleet following a safe distance behind the Jarja attack force?"

"War Admiral, you're being too cautious-"

"I tend to get that way when 90% of my fleet gets destroyed. We are the only effective fighting force left in the Alliance."

"And what would you have us do with this fighting force? Run away?"

North drummed his fingers on his console. "We don't know the disposition and location of the enemy force. We don't know exactly how they destroyed the fleet at Vitalics. They may have some new weapon or kind of ship we have yet to see. I don't favor rushing in when we're the only attack force left."

"Well, I have a different interpretation."

"What about your orders?"

"I don't know what my orders were beyond this point, and transmissions in and out of June are being jammed." Alada's holoimage faced North directly. "We're going in. Are you coming with us?"

North shook his head.

"Then we'll just have to do it on our own. I hope you decide to take a stand somewhere, Admiral," said Alada. He made a motion, and his image faded.

"What are we going to do?" Captain Dulin asked. "Are we going to assist them?"

North stared off into space.

He shook his head, mostly to himself. "The fools," said North. "The poor, bloody fools."

The Insect fleet burst into the Jarja system unopposed. Jarja II was a medium sized colony world that didn't have any ground or orbital defenses. The other planets in the system were uninhabited. The Insect fleet had just reached Jarja IV when the Directorate fleet under Captain Alada caught up to it. The Insect escort ships immediately peeled off and engaged Alada's forces, but they were outnumbered.

The Directorate fleet blasted through the escorts, and in a few short minutes wiped them out. The fleet turned to chase the Insect transports, when all of a sudden, a massive Insect attack fleet pounced on them--twenty battleships, twelve battlecruisers, thirty four cruisers, and thirty destroyers.

Suddenly, the hunters became the hunted. A number of Directorate ships were instantly vaporized by the superior firepower.

"Evade, evade!" cried Alada into the intrafleet comlink. The fleet started to turn and desperately speed away, but the Insects were in hot pursuit. Alada's battlecruiser tried to turn about, but was hit by simultaneous multiple torpedo attacks, and was blown to bits.

On a nearby battlecruiser, an officer reported to the fleet's next ranking officer, Captain Bennett. "Captain Alada's ship has just been destroyed!"

Suddenly, a hologram appeared on Bennett's bridge, and the bridge of every other Directorate ship. "Attention, Directorate forces. Proceed immediately to these coordinates," said the very familiar figure in a light blue uniform with four stars and silver eagles on his collar, pointing to a set of figures on a holographic display.

It was War Admiral Norman North!

"Admiral!' said Bennett, shocked. "My name is War Captain Michael Bennett, I'm in command-"

"No time. Follow my instructions. It's your only chance," said North. He appeared to check an indicator on a console out of holoview. "If you want to live, you'd better hurry."

"Instruct all ships to hone in on those coordinates," said Bennett. "Scanners, do you pick up North's fleet?"

"Negative," said the scanner officer. Then, "Captain, these coordinates will have us going through the far side of the Jarja asteroid belt!"

Of course! North's fleet must be waiting in the belt to ambush the Insects. The Directorate fleet followed the main path through the asteroid belt set out by the coordinates provided by North. But when they reached the belt and were inside it, Bennett still couldn't pick up any sign of North's fleet hiding in the belt. Where were they?

On the other side of the Asteroid belt, the Command Carrier Glory and the rest of the League fleet was at rest, waiting.

"They've just safely past the second group, sir," Commander Wren reported.

"Very well," said North. "Activate the mines."

The Insect fleet sped across the narrow channel as mines exploded around them. Because the path through the asteroid field was so narrow, there was no way for them to avoid the explosions. After several ships in the lead were hit by explosions and destroyed, the Insect fleet skidded to a halt and tried to reverse course. Several of them couldn't stop in time, and rammed into each other.

"They're going to take the long way around, but it won't take them too long" said North, speaking holographically on Bennett's bridge. "Are all your ships capable of top speed?"

Bennett checked a damage report. "No. Four of them have drive damage."

"Scuttle them and take the crews aboard."

Bennett opened his mouth to protest.

"And quickly," said North. "That is, if you want to live. We'll be here for another 20 minutes to provide you with covering fire. Then we're leaving; any ships that want to come with us, can come; the rest stay behind," he said, bluntly. Once again, he was giving the orders.

From the Log of War Admiral Norman North,

Commander, Combined Alliance Fleet:

We're nearly four days out of Jarja and the shock still hasn't worn off. We had a combined fleet service yesterday, for everyone lost at Vitalics, for the League sailors who died at Hunt's moon, and for the Directorate sailors who were lost at June and Jarja. But it hasn't quite sunk in emotionally that all our friends who we've served with for years are gone. We know it, intellectually, but since we didn't see most of them die at Vitalics, I think everyone is holding out hope that somehow, some of them survived. To think that men I served with for decades, even centuries, are just gone, dead, is too difficult to deal with.

The bridge goes silent whenever we receive a transmission. We keep hoping we'll hear from other surviving warships. But of course we never do; even if one or two warships did survive, they would be much wiser to maintain radio silence; that would prolong, at least for a time, their survival in now-occupied League and Directorate space.

We are getting transmissions, but they are disturbing ones. We're getting images of planets being conquered, of giant ships setting down in our cities, chasing civilians down, herding others to whatever the Insects have in store for them.

At that point the transmission from a planet under attack is usually shut down as the Insects take control of the transmission facilities. But then the Insects start transmitting again, and they show disturbing pictures.

Humans in collars, whipped and beaten by the Insects, forced to provide slave labor. One particular scene burned into my memory.

A young woman, digging with a metal instrument in the ground. Something she did upset the Insect overseer. Maybe she wasn't working fast enough. Or maybe she was doing nothing wrong at all.

The Insect stood over her, its arms twitching, and it gargled for a second, as if bringing up something through it throat. Then it vomited, spitting a pink liquid onto the woman. She shrieked, fell to the ground, and started to tremble with fear. Obviously, the liquid was having some kind of effect on her neurological system. A man, seeing what was done to her, rushed up to the Insect, yelling, "What are you doing to her?"

The Insect just cackled, and lifted the man in its many arms, and then the arms moved swiftly, and the man was decapitated--his arms, legs, and head.

Hardened bridge officers wept when they saw this broadcast; and from then on I ordered the comm officer to screen what was being relayed over the general comm.

Why are they broadcasting such atrocities? Don't they realize that they will just make us fight harder? Perhaps they intend for it to be demoralizing. Which brings us to another problem.

Many of us, in fact nearly all of us still have relatives on our home worlds. Thank goodness we haven't seen any of them in these broadcasts. But we know that they have almost certainly been drafted into forced labor, or worse. What of our families? Will we ever hear from them again? Are they still alive? And do they even know that we are still alive? Probably not.

It was with these black thoughts that I listened to Commander Wren give our status report. Seventeen Directorate ships were lost in a matter of minutes at Jarja. That means 34 of their ships, and 35 of ours. 69 ships left to face the massive onslaught of the Insect fleet.

We have enough fuel, ammunition, and supplies to reach Orotis, our outermost shipyard on the far edge of League space. I expect that the Insects may anticipate our move and send forces to meet us there; but I'm gambling we can get there first and resupply as best we can.

What we can do from there is unclear. One option is to start hit and run raids, splitting into small groups of ships and launching guerrilla warfare attacks against the Insects. But guerrilla warfare only works when you have a lot of guerrillas, and a lot of places to hide. There are only so many habitable worlds in the Alliance, and we only have 69 ships. It's my feeling that sooner or later massive Insect fleets would hunt us down and destroy us. We might do some damage in the short run, but eventually they would destroy us.

If hit and run isn't an option, then what is? I'm a soldier, trained in conventional naval combat. I was trained to fight fleets against fleets. But a fleet of 69 ships can't defeat a fleet of hundreds of Insect ships... unless we have an advantage. That's part of the reason we're heading for Orotis; that may be the first step in finding ourselves an advantage we can use against the Insects.

Just a little under three more weeks to Orotis.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

From the Log of War Admiral Norman North,

Commander, Combined Alliance Fleet:

Two weeks after Vitalics.

We stopped to catch our breath, and found it to almost be our undoing.

My original plan was to head directly for Orotis. But then three of our ships started to develop engine trouble, and Danmark II was almost directly in our flight path. Captain Bennett, speaking for the Directorate fleet (replacing the late Captain Alada, whose ship perished at Jarja), suggested we stop there to make emergency repairs--two of the limping ships were his.

Actually, "suggested" may not be the right word. Even from the very beginning of the Alliance between the League and the Directorate, there's always been some tension when a Directorate commander had to take orders from a League officer, or vice-versa. There have even been rare occasions where each have gone their own way due to "creative differences" over battle strategy.

But we can't afford to have creative differences now. There are too few of us left. Bennett obviously respects me, and he didn't state his suggestion as a demand, but I still sense he's not fully ready to buckle down and take orders from the senior Alliance commander. Unfortunately, that could be our undoing.

A week ago I would've let him go his own way and do as he would. But there are too few of us left now. No longer will I passively sit by and let things unravel. I've already seen the terrible price we've paid for our inaction. My inaction.

Bennet's suggestion does have some merit. I don't want to leave any ships behind, and those three ships have valuable sailors on it. We could evacuate the damaged ships, but with our shipyards out of commission each ship is priceless, irreplacable. Nevertheless a rest stop does give the enemy more of an opportunity to catch up with us, even though we have no indication that we've been pursued. Logic suggests that the Insects are too caught up swallowing the sheer size of their latest acquisition to go after us, but we can't afford to take chances. Despite my concerns, however, I have authorized a quick stop, and even my own officers concur with Bennett's suggestion to drop out at Danmark II.

Nevertheless, if there comes a point where I have to relieve Bennett of command to save them all, even if I have to arrest him, even if I have to court martial him, even if I have to execute him, I'd do it, in an instant. Never again will I sit passively. Never again.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The fleet was still decelerating into orbit when they received a transmission from Governor Delapan of Danmark II.

"Admiral! I knew the fleet would save us! We heard the worst-"

"The worst is true," said North. "What you see before you is all that's left of the fleet."

"All?" Delapan frowned. "You mean, all that's left of the sector fleet?"

"All that's left of all the fleets. All of them," said North. "And I'm sure our would-be conquerers aren't far behind us."

"The entire fleet," said Delapan, stunned. He took a few moments to digest this. "Well, it's good you've arrived. Please take up defensive positions around-"

"You misunderstand, Governor," said North. "We're on our way out of this region of space entirely."

"But... you can't just leave us defenseless!"

"I'm afraid we have no choice," said North.

"I order you to assume defensive positions around our planet," said Delapan. "You are military, and are bound to obey the orders of civilian authorities-"

"-no longer," said North bluntly. He knew that even under normal circumstances that the Fleet wasn't answerable to planetary governors. But he wanted to drive the point home. "I'm declaring this entire sector under martial law. Our crews are coming down to take on supplies; we also want all available merchant spacers to be made ready to join our convoy-"

"You can't just give orders!"

"I can," said North. "My troops are coming down armed. If anyone resists or hinders us, they will be shot."

"What! I won't permit-"

"We have your transmission zone pinpointed," said North. "If you incite rebellion or attempt to issue orders contrary to ours, we will flatten your administrative area with a proximity missile."

"What... why...."

"Politician. Dissembler. Traitor," North spat. "You're all the same. Because of your kind, we've lost everything. If you want to make yourself useful, start working on your surrender speech for your new masters, who will be along soon. End transmission!"

The silence on the bridge was deafening. The crew had never heard North be this... visceral before, even when dealing with the enemy. His anger with the civilian authorities was intense, but it was only magnified and exacerbated by his anger with himself.

Commander Dulin looked worried but said nothing. Lieutenant Commander Wren cleared her throat, and said, "Sir, don't you think-"

North glared at her, and she fell silent. Wren turned away.

And then, in a voice almost too low for anyone to hear, he muttered, "Not again. I won't let it happen again."

Transports and shuttles from the fleet touched down at the main spaceport. And it was a madhouse. Word had gotten out about the fleet's landing, and the approach of the Insect forces, and mobs rushed the spaceport, hoping to escape. Everyone wanted to get aboard the few merchant ships left that were being conscripted to join the fleet.

Major Fortran, commander of the Glory's marine battalion, bit his lip. The word going around was that North had given him strict "shoot to kill" orders; Fortran, who had received the orders face to face, knew that this was only a slight exaggeration. North had authorized him to use restraint if possible, but to "take all measures necessary" to ensure the cargo was obtained. Fortran's men were on guard at the spaceport perimeter, holding back the crowds, while the regular navy people took on supplies and made the remaining civilian spacers ready.

The screaming crowd surged, and one of the perimeter security fences buckled, and fell. The crowd pushed forward towards the thin line of League Marines. Fortran could hear over his command monitor the corporal in charge of that section of the cordon frantically calling his platoon leader for instructions.

"Sir, sir, what do we do?" said the Corporal, as the crowd surged forward. He was waiting, almost fearfully, for that dreaded instruction, "WFC", weapons-free clearance, a fancy way of giving permission to fire into the crowd.

But before the platoon leader could respond Fortran broke into the command circuit. "Warning shots first! Fire rounds, over their heads!"

His men fired a series of laser volleys over the crowd's head. The crowd screamed, pulling back. Fortran barely had time to exhale before the next hot spot demanded his attention. When had they ever gotten so desperate as to be at the point of firing on their own people?

"The reports are coming in; there isn't very much available in the way of supplies at the spaceport, except for fuel, and seven civilian and merchant spacers" said Commander Dulin. "Perhaps if we went farther inland...."

"Too dangerous. Not enough time," said North, looking into the air.

"Sir, three of those ships are passenger ships, and even the merchant ships can take on some passengers," said Dulin meaningfully.

North continued to stare into oblivion. "Millions of people, and we get to choose the handful that get saved. But are we really saving them? We're going on a journey that none may return from. Maybe they'd be better off where they are."

"Sir?"

North waved a hand dismissively. "Tell ground control that once everything is loaded to take some passengers aboard. But that should be the final task, and only after all the cargo is loaded aboard. There will be a stampede once the word gets out. What progress is there on the repairs?"

Suddenly, the alert klaxons blared.

"Report!' said North.

"An Insect fleet is entering the system."

"Composition!"

"...14 ships, four scouts, five destroyers, five cruisers, four light, one standard class."

"Battle stations!" said North. "Jam their frequencies! I don't want any message getting through!"

The battle was brief but fatal--for the Insects. Even North's small fleet outgunned the small attack probe. The Insects lost three destroyers and two light cruisers in the first engagement. Deciding they had had enough, they turned tail and ran... right into the arms of the vanguard force North had purposely positioned behind them.

When all was said and done the Insect battle group was destroyed, but two of North's cruisers were damaged, one beyond immediate repair.

"Evacuate the heavily damaged one," said North. "And the other ship?"

"Damaged, but spaceworthy," said Wren.

"What about the three ships that were undergoing repairs to their drive units?"

"One has been repaired. Repairs are pending on the other two."

"Tell them they have one hour to make repairs. If they can't make their ships reach at least 90% of fleet flank speed, evacuate their ships and scuttle them."

"An hour?" said Dulin.

North swiveled his command chair to face Dulin. "We can't be certain they didn't get a message off before we engaged them. Also, this combat probe is bound to be missed. Those are my orders."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

From the Log of War Admiral Norman North,

Commander, Combined Alliance Fleet:

Three weeks After Vitalics

We're just a few hours out from Orotis. I suppose I should feel a small sense of victory that we've made it this far without further losses. I say "should" because I don't; there's no joy in making a hasty retreat. Basically, we're retreating out of Alliance space at top speed, and so far no Insect ships have come so far so quickly to catch us running with our tails between our legs.

Which brings me to the subject of what we do next. Some of my officers have begun floating the idea of hanging out here, at the rim, and conducting hit and run raids on the Insects, when they come out this far. But if guerrilla warfare won't work in the core of our homeworlds, it will hardly work much better here. We'd have some successes in the beginning, but sooner or later the Insects, with an overwhelming number of ships, would hunt us down and destroy us. Guerrilla warfare only works when you have a secure base of operations to retreat to and get resupply from; very shortly we will have neither.

I've been giving the matter of what to do next a lot of thought. There are really only two ways to have any realistic chance of destroy the Insects. First, we could build more ships. But that could take years, and the first thing the Insects will do is to destroy or occupy all our shipyards.

That just leaves one other possibility. If we can't get the numbers we need to take back our homeworlds, the only other way a fleet this size could defeat the enemy is if we had superior technology. And that, I'm afraid, will require us to leave Alliance space altogether. It's risky; for one thing, we won't have any established means of resupply when we're gone. And it will mean leaving everything that we know. Outside of our fleet, we may never see another human face again, if ever. But we need to go into the uncharted regions if we're to find what we're looking for.

For it isn't by chance that I selected Orotis as our final destination inside of Alliance space. The University of Orotis is known Alliance-wide for a certain field of study that will be vital to us in our search. The study of historical xenology. The study of the Monumentals.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The remnants of the Alliance Fleet successfully made it into orbit around Orotis without further incident. North split up his fleet, sending portions of it out on barrier patrol around the outskirts of the system while his main force took up position above the planet.

The governor of Orotis, though hardly pleased by the turn of events, was more willing to be cooperative than the governor of Danmark II, and offered his assistance in the resupply effort. Orotis, while hardly a major hub by the standards of the core worlds, was one of the largest trading areas on the fringe. Eighteen merchant ships were in orbit or on the ground when the fleet arrived, and all agreed to form a convoy along with the ships that joined their fleet at Danmark II. The merchant skippers figured, correctly that they'd get better protection if they joined with North's fleet, though if they knew that they were to undergo a journey that might last years or even decades, they might've had second thoughts.

While the resupply efforts were underway, North took a military shuttle down to the University of Orotis. Dulin and Wren had tried to veto his decision, but he was adamant; but he did agree to take a platoon of Major Fortran's men, most of whom touched down on an accompanying assault transport.

As Orotis didn't have its own landing facilities, the War Admiral made a splash as his shuttle landed on the front lawn of the sprawling campus. The War Admiral, flanked by a security detail, stepped off the ramp even while the shuttle was still venting exhaust gas. North slowly plodded across the campus, flanked by the security platoon, oblivious to the curious onlookers. He knew exactly where he was going; having done his research even before leaving the Glory: what he wanted was in the Department of Historical Xenoscience.

North found the faculty members and research scholars waiting for him. "Good, gentlemen, I see you received my message," he said calmly. "As many of you may know, my name is War Admiral Norman North. I command what's left of the Alliance fleet."

There was a small murmur in the room.

"The Insects will be coming here soon, perhaps in several days, or even several hours."

"What are you going to do?" said the head of the department, Professor Stevenson.

"There's not much we can do," said North. "Nearly all the fleet was destroyed. That's why I've come to you gentlemen. You're going to help me defeat the Insects."

Shocked glances.

"That's right. We're preparing accommodations for you and your senior researchers on the Glory. We're taking you all on a little trip."

"Trip? Where?" They asked.

"To find the Monumentals."

The Monumentals. An extremely technological advanced older race that had existed hundreds of thousands if not millions of years before mankind. Thought to be long extinct, some of their works had survived--a few artifacts here and there, a few scattered monuments on distant worlds.

"The Monumental are gone," said Stevenson

"True, Professor," said North. "But not their works." He lowered his voice, but still spoke loudly enough to be heard. "The situation is grim. We no longer have the numbers to defeat the Insects. Our chance, our only chance, is to find some piece of Monumental technology we can use to destroy the Insects. That's why I need you people. You've made some good progress in deciphering the Monumental monuments. You can help us locate other Monumental sites, and maybe even point us in the right direction of where to go."

"Researchers have been searching for Monumental artifacts for centuries, and most have turned up little or nothing," said Stevenson. "What makes you think we'll fare any better?"

"We have no choice," said North. "If we stay here, we'll be destroyed; if we dance around the sector, we'll only be postponing the inevitable. This is our only chance. If it will take time, spent it with me. I'll see it through with you, if you come with us."

A researcher said, "This could take decades, or longer."

"Yes."

"Our colleagues on August or June are really more knowledgable in this area and maybe they-"

"Your colleagues on August and June are already being fitted with Insect control collars and are now slaves of the Insects. Do you really want to be in their company right now?"

Stevenson said, "Let me have some time to talk it over with my people."

North shook his head. "I'm sorry, but we have no time. The Insects could be here at any time. We'll only have a few minutes warning before they reach in-system, which won't be enough time to evacuate you and your staff."

"Admiral, I think we need to vote-"

North shook his head again. "You don't understand; I'm not asking you to accompany me; I'm telling you. I offered an explanation out of courtesy. Lieutenant!"

"Sir." The platoon leader stepped forward.

"Allow these men to gather any papers or files they need. But they're not to leave the building, and I want them boarded on your assault transport within the hour. If they resist, carry them. If they run, stun them and carry them."

"An hour!" said Stevenson. "But what about our families? Our-"

North's face softened ever so slightly. "Call them. If they want to come, we'll make room for them. Just be honest with them--we're going away for a long, long time, and there's no telling when we'll be coming back." Turning on his heel, he marched backed to the shuttle in the company of two marines. Much as he wanted to supervise the evacuation of the scientists, events were moving too quickly, and he didn't want to be caught on the ground when the Insects arrived.

"Glory," he simply told the shuttle pilot, as he strapped himself in.

His concerns seemed justified when the shuttle, on final approach to the Glory, was relayed a proximity alert from the bridge.

"How many of them are there," North asked, stiffening immediately. His mind was racing; could they evacuate the scientists in time? How had they gotten here so quickly? If the attackers were only another small combat probe, maybe they could repell them....

"Just a moment," said Wren, studying the data being relayed from their out-system pickets. "Just one... it's one of ours, Admiral! A fast attack destroyer, the Suny Blue! Wait... I'm getting a relayed message...."

"What is it?" North asked, straining to listen over the sounds of the shuttle landing in the bay. With a scrape and a small bump the shuttle touched down securely in the hanger.

"The Suny Blue was assigned to Armistice duty at Vitalics," said Wren, her voice filled with awe.

One hour later the Captain of the Suny Blue, Tens Zender, was standing at attention in North's command office, just off the main bridge.

"At ease, Captain," said North. He gestured for Zender to sit down. "We didn't know that anyone survived the ambush at Vitalics. Did any other ships get away?"

Zender swallowed. "No sir, not that we saw. But it was quite a hectic situation."

"I imagine," said North. He gazed cooly at Zender. "I'm very interested to hear how you got away. I'm even more interested to know how you found us."

"Found you, sir? We didn't even know any elements of the fleet had survived," said Zender. "Once we escaped we realized that most of the fleet was probably destroyed. We were pursued by Insects ships in the area around the core worlds, and barely managed to escape. Finally we decided that our only chance for survival was to make for the fringe worlds. I guess you came to the same conclusion."

North nodded. "But how did you survive Vitalics? What happened at Vitalics?"

"Well, sir, I'm not really sure." Zender swallowed again, and got a pained look on his face as he tried to recall unpleasant events. "The Insects sent ships forward to meet us. They weren't military ships--actually, they looked more like cargo ships. The ships launched these round, spherical objects, a lot of them."

"What kind of objects?"

Zender shook his head. "We don't know. But when these objects got near us they exploded, spreading a fine mist. It took down the shields, weapons, and power systems for most of the fleet. Then they started launching wave after wave of rocket attacks at us. It was a slaughter."

North's hands grasped his chair more tightly, but otherwise betrayed no reaction. "And how did you escape?"

"We were on the very edge of the formation. One of the battleships got wise that something is wrong and opened fire on the ship heading closest to us. The Insect ship wasn't destroyed, but it was damaged enough so it stopped launching globes at us."

"Did any other ships fire back?"

"Not that I could see."

"What battleship was this? Did you see what happened to this battleship?"

"I don't know," said Zender. "Once we heard reports of power failures throughout the fleet, we knew we had to steer clear of the mist field, which we were mighty close to. When we saw what was happening to the fleet, we knew there wasn't much we could do... so we escaped. Or tried to escape. We were hunted for several days by several battle groups. They got a few potshots at my ship before we managed to get out of range, but they kept up the chase. We managed to evade them, hiding out in an asteroid field for several days. After we got out, we knew we'd have to escape, so we headed out here."

"And did you see or hear of any other ships escaping from Vitalics?" said North. "If you were clear of the field, perhaps others were as well."

"Perhaps one or two," said Zender. "But if there were, we didn't see them."

"Hm." North drummed his fingers on his desk. "And they were simply destroying the fleet, not taking any prisoners."

"Not that we saw," said Zender quietly.

North's face grew grave. "A lot of good men died that day, Captain. And I served with a lot of them for a long time."

"Yes sir," said Zender. "Sir? What do we do now?"

"Return to your ship," said North. "Naturally, you'll join our fleet. We're going on a little journey. You'll get details on that soon. Dismissed." As Zender turned to go, North hit a button on his command console. "Captain Dulin? Please report to my ready room."

Dulin entered a few seconds later. "Sir?"

"Have a tech team go over Captain Zender's ship from stem to stern."

"What should they be looking for?"

"Anything out of the ordinary. Tracking devices. Anything. Then have sickbay do a thorough medical scan on our Captain and his senior officers. Have them look specifically for any signs of medical tampering."

"You suspect a trap?"

"Unlikely, but possible," said North. "I believe the young man is telling the truth. But I still find it hard to believe that anyone got out of Vitalics alive." He told Dulin what Zender had relayed to him. "I wonder who that battleship captain was and what happened to him."

"His ship would've been vastly outnumbered; he was probably destroyed, along with the rest."

"Probably," said North. "When you're done with my little errands, call all senior captains to a meeting in the briefing room in two hours. It's time we got moving."

The briefing room was packed when North arrived, several minutes late. Normally he insisted on punctuality for all under his command, including himself, but he had just been on the line with the medical staff, and received a preliminary report from his tech team. Zender, it appears, was in the clear.

"Gentlemen," said North, gazing at the assembled Captains. Every senior captain was there, mostly Command Captains but a sprinkling of War Captains as well. Most senior captains were in charge of the larger ships, the heavy cruisers and the battlecruisers, but several captains in charge of destroyer battle groups were present as well. Also present were North's senior staff--Dulin, Wren, and Colonel Robert Dey, commander of the Glory's starfighter squadrons. North noticed that all the white uniformed Directorate captains sat on one side of the room with Captain Bennett, who had been second in command to the late Captain Alada, while all of North's light-blue uniformed League sailors sat on the other side. That would have to change.

North quickly related Captain Zender's story. A hushed silence fell on the crowd.

"What kind of a weapon could render our fleet defenseless?"

"We don't know yet what kind of a weapon it is, but we know its effect," said North. "It makes ships defenseless. If we stick around here, we're just giving the Insects an invitation to try it out on us."

"No one is proposing that we stay here," said Bennett. "What do you propose, War Admiral?"

North slowly walked around the room, staring at different faces in the crowd, both Directorate and League officers, as he spoke. "We know now that this battle won't be won by sheer force of numbers. In the past we have won victories even when we've been outnumbered, but never by margins of five or ten to one, never when the enemy is as technologically advanced or more advanced than we are."

"Therefore if we cannot win by numbers, we must prevail by utilizing superior technology. We have to develop new weapons that will let our little pocket fleet destroy the Insects."

"How do we develop this new technology?" said one of the captains, Captain Harkness, of the second largest ship in North's fleet, the pocket battleship Blue Luna. He was a crusty old officer, but very reliable; and as Captain of the Blue Luna, he was technically third-in-command of the fleet, should anything happen to North and Dulin. North frowned inwardly; with the combination of the two fleets, he would have to give some serious rethinking to the chain of command. But not now.

"Perhaps 'develop' was a poor choice of words," said North. "We're not going to develop this technology, we're going to find it."

"Where do we find it?" Someone else asked.

"Out there," said North, pointing out the viewport. "Out among the stars. Among the Monumentals." He paused to let this sink in. "All of us know from the bits and pieces of Monumental technology we've discovered that they were vastly superior to what we've developed now. If we can uncover an abandoned Monumental base, or even the remnants of one of their ancient cities, we may be able to harness enough of their technology to help us defeat the Insects."

"The galaxy is a big place," said Bennett. "We could search for centuries and not find anything."

"I've recruited a bit of help," said North. "Leading researchers on the Monumental from the University of Orotis have patriotically decided to sign up and join our efforts to search for the Monumentals. I'm not saying it will be easy, and it will take time, but I think it's our only chance."

"But if we leave human space, how will we be resupplied?" one of the captains wanted to know.

"We won't be," said North. "Your ships already have the ability to grow a limited supply of your own food. We will be augmenting this ability with hydroponics equipment that we're bringing up from Orotis. We can plant gardens in our cargo bays and on the civilian ships which are joining us."

"And what of spare parts, and fuel?"

"We have an ample supply of spare parts at present, but we will have to improvise," said North. "As for fuel, we can adapt our collectors to run on plasma from any nearby sun."

"Plasma!" said one of the Captains. "Even if you get that to work, we won't be very fuel efficient; and we'll have to constantly be refueling."

"Not constantly," said North. "More frequently, yes."

"And what if it takes us a century of looking to find what we're looking for--that means another century just to get back to Alliance space!" said another. "The farther out we go, the longer it will take us to return."

"I never said it would be easy, and there's no guarantees. But it's our only choice," said North.

"What if we stay here, and start a hit and run operation? We can't destroy them, but we can sting them, wear them down," said another.

North shook his head. "Guerrilla tactics work where you have a network of friendlies who can resupply you and give you sanctuary for repairs and refueling; we don't, or won't, for very long. Sooner or later, they'd find us and destroy us."

Bennett said. "War Admiral, I hear what you're saying, but you're asking a lot. You're basically asking us to leave mankind behind, and perhaps never to see our people again for years, if ever again in our lifetimes.... It's a lot to ask."

North looked at the assembled officers. "Most of you know me, if not personally, from fighting side by side in battle, then from the legends of what I've accomplished. For hundreds of years I've fought to keep the Alliance safe. You know what I've accomplished, what I've achieved, despite sometimes overwhelming odds. I'm asking you to trust me again, now; and to join me, not as League sailors, or Directorate sailors, but as one group. Alliance sailors. Only by sticking together can we survive. Otherwise, by this time next year we'll all either be wearing Insect slave collars, or we'll simply be dead. I'm offering you an alternative to this certainty. Now who will stand with me?"

At that moment North's stern face looked as if it had been chiseled from stone. He stared at the assembled officers like a searchlight staring out at the darkness. Wherever he gazed confusion, and fear, was replaced by confidence, and resolution.

North's officers stood up, almost as one, and declared themselves for him. But he knew they would. The Directorate officers, however were seated, each looking at the other, as if waiting for an unspoken signal.

"I don't like your plan," said Captain Bennett slowly. "But you warned us against going to Jarja; and if we had listened to you, this room might be a good fuller than it is now. You saved us then, just as you saved us before and undoubtedly will do so again. I know your history, War Admiral, just as I know you, and while I say I have doubts about your plan, I have no doubts about you. Where you lead, I will follow."

And then Bennett' men stood up as one, and declared themselves for North. And after that day, though sailors knew if in the past they had belonged to the Directorate, or the League, they simply called themselves soldiers of the Alliance now, and War Admiral Norman North was their leader. That didn't mean there would never be factionalism or disagreements again, but at that moment, they were more united than they ever had been.

It was two days later before outlying warning beacons, dispatched far beyond the edges of the Orotis system, sounded the alarm; a fleet of Insects ships, some 104 ships strong, was on its way. Although information on the composition of the attack force was sketchy, it was composed of at least 60 capital ships. This was no small combat probe.

Immediately, transshipments from the planet ceased; the fleet formed the formations that North had worked out with Dulin and Bennett; and the fleet was made spaceworthy within an hour. There was a last minute crush of people trying to reach the civilian ships; but only a tiny number could be taken, and then only after they agreed to maintain the hydroponic farms on the spacers that were appropriated by the fleet. As the ships accelerated away from the planet, there was more than one teary eye as the image of Orotis, the last human outpost they would ever hope to see, shrunk from a round oval into a shiny dot in the sky... and then it was gone.

When the Insect fleet arrived in-system twelve hours later, there was nothing to greet them but Orotis itself and empty space, no trace of North, or the rest of the fleet, which were long gone, in search of a slender chance and a wild hope.