A Shifting Alliance (Galaxy Ascendant Book 3) Read online

  TR-14D, who had only been devoting fifty-five recent of his attention to Turon, the rest tuned toward futile attempts at finding more information on the start of the war, refocused it all on the minister when his monologue turned to the war.

  “Pardon me for asking, Minister,” he said, cutting into a long sentence about the minister’s intelligence and skill at hiring just the right employees, “but how exactly did the war begin? I have read the official press releases, but it appears quite vague, especially considering the speed at which it was declared, without so much of a notification to the legislature.”

  “Hm?” Turon replied. “The war… now that you mention it, it was strangely quick. There was a short memo sent of a potential alien incursion into Imperial space and that a fleet was being sent to investigate, but that was all anyone heard until the Emperor announced that our fleet had been attacked and defeated in battle, and that we were at war.”

  Fascinating.

  “Was there no information given on the battle itself, such as how it actually began?”

  Turon shook his helmeted head. “No. The crews of the surviving ships were forbidden from talking to anyone between the initial battle and their redeployment as the war gradually began to escalate—not that it’s gotten that far yet.”

  “Do you not find this suspicious?”

  “It does seem so, doesn’t it? I knew I saw something special in you, Triad. I mean, I get along great with the Gurshen; reliable, honest people, but not usually the curious type. This is a strange situation, and the media isn’t going to be of any help. As usual, it’ll just spout what it’s told to, and nothing else. But asking too many questions, at the wrong time, can be dangerous.”

  “Are you implying that I should, quietly, look into this further?” TR-14D asked. Every so often, he saw a flash of a truly intelligent, politically savvy person through the minister’s outwardly bombastic and eccentric appearance that earned him no small amount of mockery.

  Minister Turon looked directly at TR-14D, his helmeted face as expressionless as that of a Gurshen, up until he tilted it slightly in a very Revittan way. “I’m not telling you to do anything apart from your regular job, Triad. However, in order to get things done more efficiently, I think you’ll need my higher level access codes. What you do on your personal time is none of my business. And speaking of business, did I tell you how great mine are doing? Maybe I should release the records of just how much I actually pay in taxes every cycle, to shut up some idiots. Not that they matter though. But back to that great news…”

  TR-14D shifted most of his attention away from the minister as he went on and on, instead completing the analysis of the rest of the data he had gathered, while he began, with the aid of the access codes that had been promptly sent to him, to look into the mystery that was somehow compelling him to investigate. There was something suspicious behind the start of this war, and for the sake of the safety of his people, and the Empire they were a part of, he needed to uncover it.

  CHAPTER 3

  “Legion Navy forces, hold position between the enemy and the station. Battlegroup Two, move to flank the Revittan fleet from below. Battlegroup One, Felinaris forces, form up behind the Ivennar. We’re going to meet them head-on. Fighters, remain near the main body of the fleet until we close with the enemy.”

  His orders were quickly acknowledged, and Executor Keeneye’s focus shifted completely to the tactical display before him. As he had during the battle over the hollow world, Keeneye missed the advanced tactical and command setup that Darkclaw had used during their war with the Alliance. Hopefully, once the Hudecar was fully ready for battle again, they would be able to integrate all of their allied forces into the network, and allow the High Executor to fully command the fleets in the most efficient way possible.

  But that was the future, this was now.

  On the display, Keeneye saw the Revittan force split in two in an attempt to evade his oncoming forces and engage the Legion Navy formation clustered around the station, one of the quickly built forward bases the Talvostans had been preparing. Unfortunately, the station itself lacked any weapons systems, which made it useless from a tactical standpoint, aside from as a fighting position. That was the reason the Revittan force was seeking to initiate the fight there, to pin the Legion Navy ships against it, and to also take advantage of it as a screen from incoming fire. The Revittans, at least, were proving tactically more competent than the Alliance had been during the last war.

  That did not change the fact that here, at least, they were outmatched.

  “Legion Navy forces, break from defensive positions and move to engage. Felinaris forces, break left and intercept the Revittan left wing. Battlegroup One, break right.”

  They all carried out their orders immediately, and within moments, Keeneye’s focus narrowed to his immediate situation as his battlegroup engaged the Revittans, who immediately broke off their attempt to reach the station and turned to fight.

  “Heavy fighters, attack the enemy frigates; interceptors, provide cover,” Keeneye ordered as he had the Ivennar and the other lead ships focused their fire on the largest of the Revittan vessels, those more likely to be command vessels and also harder to replace. Of course, if—when—things started to go badly for the Revittans, they would almost certainly withdraw.

  While Keeneye was sure the media reports would call this an “invasion,” and it was the largest Revittan incursion into Alliance space thus far, it was merely a probe of Alliance strength and reaction times, as well as a general intelligence-gathering operation. The real battles were yet to come.

  That he looked forward to, Keeneye admitted to himself as the Ivennar shook slightly under enemy fire. However, there was something else there, he noted as his battlegroup trapped most of the enemy attack wing between it and the oncoming Legion Navy ships, annihilating a portion of it, and sending the rest running. This might be all he ever did.

  Was this how he wanted to spend a life only recently freed from total servitude to the High Lord? No matter how much a large part of him enjoyed engaging in battle, an increasingly large part of himself yearned for something else. What that was, he could not say, but it would be something that did not involve warfare.

  However, as he led the fleet in pursuit of the fleeing Revittan ships, Keeneye recalled something that Darkclaw had told all of the non-clone officers, the Tyrannodon Armada’s command staff, upon the outbreak of war. This was their calling, whether they liked it or not. It was their burden and duty to give of themselves, their time, and if need be their lives, to protect the still uncertain future of their species. So long as there was a need to defend his people, Keeneye would be there, regardless of his personal feelings.

  Instead, his anger shifted to the Revittans. It was they who had forced the Tyrannodons into another war. It was they who were forcing Keeneye to invest all of his time and energy into warfare. He resisted a sudden urge to growl, and instead opened a channel to Battlegroup Two, which had risen to position itself behind the all-but-broken Revittan force. “Battlegroup Two, cut off as much of the enemy force as is feasible,” Keeneye ordered. It would be wasted effort to hope to eliminate the Revittans altogether, and there were advantages to allowing survivors to escape and tell of their defeat here. More important, however, he wanted the Revittans to pay for what they were forcing him to do. Even if it was a small matter in the grand scheme of things, he needed it.

  “Destroy any trapped or crippled ships that do not immediately surrender,” Keeneye ordered. “They wanted this war, it is time they learn the consequences.”

  Keeneye spotted a badly damaged Revittan warship that was still stubbornly firing back. “All batteries, fire.”

  ###

  “Your loyalty is admirable,” Keeneye began as he stepped in front of the dozen Revittan officer prisoners who were arranged in a line, hands bound behind their backs. They all looked fairly similar to the Revittan officer he’d spoken to before the battle over the hollow world; so
mewhat taller than the average Tehlman, but with pointed ears, uniformly pale skin, accented by symmetrical, blood-red patterns on their faces. It gave them a fierce look that matched their battle mettle he had observed thus far. “However, I mean to get what I need, one way or the other. I want to know what the specific purpose of this attack was, and where your true force is massing. The sooner this war ends, the better off all of our people will be, and the sooner you can return to your homes and families. Your leaders chose to start this war, not you, but only a swift demonstration that this is a war your empire cannot win will get the message across.” Keeneye doubted that the captured officers would be receptive to that, but it was only fair to give them an easier way out.

  The highest ranking officer in the group, a captain, began to laugh. “I suppose you are as stupid as you look, lizard. You far underestimate the strength of the Empire. Celebrate your miniscule victory here today, your success over the hollow world, while you still can. Invade the Empire itself if you dare. We will draw you out, outmaneuver you, and destroy you.”

  Keeneye stared the Revittan in his red eyes, waited just a moment to be sure that his growing anger didn’t show, and replied. “That is irrelevant at the present time. Whether or not your empire wins this war has no bearing on your current situation. It is clear that this incursion into Alliance space is a prelude to a larger attack. Before I leave this room, I will know all that you know about when and from where this attack will come.”

  “And what if none of us feel like talking? Or what if I’m only willing to talk after I get to know them?” he said with a smirk as he glanced to Keeneye’s left, where two female officers were standing, a Felinaris and a Tehlman.

  Keeneye didn’t immediately reply, but he increasingly wanted to see this Revittan’s smirk wiped from his pale face.

  “Your sector of the galaxy certainly has some interesting species that our scientists will find fascinating to study once we defeat you. Spoils enough for every loyal Imperial officer! Hail the Emperor, hail the Empire, and the victory to come!”

  The Revittan had scarcely finished speaking when Keeneye lunged forward, grabbed him by the throat, and slammed him against the wall. “Do you think this is a game?” Keeneye snarled, then hurled the still-bound alien to the floor. “I do not know how things work among your people, but with mine, we mean what we say. I will have what I need, even if I have to beat it out of you with my bare hands!”

  He grabbed the prone Revittan by the back of his uniform, not bothering to prevent his claws from slicing into the prisoner, and hurled him across the room into another wall, then walked to stand over the bruised, bleeding, and barely conscious officer. It was people like this that were forcing him to fight this war, and such people deserved nothing less than annihilation! He clenched his right hand into a fist, and was ready to slam it down into the Revittan’s face before he stopped himself and relaxed his hand, then looked around the large room that served as small station’s conference room. Most of his fellow Alliance officers maintained neutral expressions, but in a few he could see fear and a desire to step in and say something.

  He then looked down at the Revittan he had come so close to killing. While as a species they were on the taller side, they were still dwarfed by Tyrannodons, and Keeneye in particular. And where this one had, a few moments ago, looked so smug and arrogant, he now looked pitiful and small, with blood from several fresh cuts mingling with the red markings on his face. He was still breathing, at least.

  Keeneye turned toward the rest of the prisoners, who, while admirably not cowering, were definitely afraid now, and all sense of poise and arrogance was gone. “Who wishes to speak with me next?”

  There were a few moments of tense silence before one of the Revittans, a female who held the rank of commander, took a step forward. “If you guarantee medical treatment for my captain, as well as our safety and proper treatment, I will tell you what I know.”

  Keeneye glanced down at the bloodied captain, who looked to be very painfully shaking his head, but the commander and other officers either did not notice, or deliberately did not acknowledge the direction.

  “Excellent.” Keeneye turned toward the commander of the Legion Navy forces present. “Commodore Rennin, make arrangements for the commander to comfortably talk with our intelligence staff, and call a medical team for the captain. Return the rest of the prisoners to the brig until we are done here, then have them transported to Dorandor.”

  His job done, Keeneye began to head toward the airlock to return to the Ivennar, when he was joined by the Felinaris commander, High Captain Iraenn Ellar. “You don’t plan to stay and hear what the prisoner reveals?” she asked.

  Keeneye shook his head, and slowed to allow the much shorter officer to keep pace, but did not stop. “Those who are managing the war on a macro scale will deal with it as they see fit. That is not my job. Mine is to prosecute this war as efficiently as possible, so that it can be brought to an end soon.”

  The Felinaris was silent for a moment. “Some will be concerned, considering your actions back there. Many will not approve.”

  “Let them be concerned. I did not ask for this war, but I will not fight it with so much as a finger tied behind my back, unless the high executor himself orders me to.”

  Keeneye reached the airlock, stopped outside it, and looked down at the reddish-brown-furred Felinaris.

  “You are not worried that you, and by extension, us, are perilously close to crossing a line?” she asked.

  Keeneye was tempted to give a sharp reply, but remembered that High Captain Ellar, like most of the Felinaris combat officers, was quite young. Technically, he was even younger, unless his time in hibernation was counted, but Tyrannodons were different. “We may well be, High Captain,” he replied, “and I will walk right up to that line if need be. The purpose of the line is for it not to be crossed, but up until that point, everything is fair game. If intelligence reports are correct, the Revittans will go further than even we will in order to secure victory. We cannot limit ourselves any more than we absolutely must.”

  The young officer nodded. “I understand. As soon as our damage reports are compiled and ships in need of repair are sent on their way, we will join you in patrolling the border, Executor.”

  Keeneye nodded. “I look forward to your arrival.”

  The high captain nodded again, then turned and headed deeper into the station. As much as the fact that they were at war again bothered him, he would always be proud to fight alongside the Felinaris, the first people to embrace his own, and the ones to whom the Tyrannodons owed a debt that could never be repaid.

  Darkclaw had been wrong. They were not just fighting this war on behalf of their people, but on behalf of all of those that were close to them, and whose fates were forever linked to theirs.

  All the more reason to win, and quickly.

  CHAPTER 4

  “This is getting us nowhere,” the ethereal voice of the new first scion, the Cytan Silron Crodum, cut into the discussion—the alleged discussion—between no fewer than four people at the same time. Noise, in other words.

  Nayasar sighed and leaned against the wall as the Scion, along with Chairman Telarius, gradually restored order. There were certainly benefits to a meeting format without seats, and it certainly felt more like a wartime conference this way, but moments like this were where she would have liked to be able to lean back in a comfortable chair and wait out the bickering. It might’ve helped her ignore the unpleasant, alien smells that always accompanied such meetings.

  “Worse, this is wasting our time,” agreed Executor Shadowpath, representing the Tyrannodons; Darkclaw was apparently otherwise occupied. Lucky him. Next time, Nayasar would have to find a reason to be elsewhere and let Felivas or someone else suffer through this.

  “We need to formulate a unified plan of action, however long that takes, and arguing over minute details wastes valuable time,” Shadowpath continued, and Nayasar realized that she had never hea
rd him talk so much. Of course, she’d never interacted with the quiet executor, whose scales were a far deeper blue than the average Tyrannodon—closer to black, actually. Executor, then Praetor Keeneye had been Darkclaw’s deputy officer in the fighting during the war, while Shadowpath had overseen their early holdings.

  Now, with Keeneye in command of their deployed forces thus far and Darkclaw busy on Voran’dus, Shadowpath had an opportunity to step out of the shadows—Nayasar cringed internally at the accidental, terrible pun—and was proving himself to be quite intelligent and perceptive. It was always the quiet ones.

  “Remember that we face an empire, which by its nature will be, at least in terms of its decision making, much faster and more unified. Of course, there may well be infighting or other things that we will be able to exploit, once we learn what they are, but at the present time we do not have such information, nor do we have time to wait for it before planning our next moves. The high executor supports a large, swift strike into Revittan space with the aim of making a clear statement that this is not a fight they should commit to.”