Growing up as the sole son of a Duke was a…unique experience.
James’ upbringing was characterized by a number of tutors, from the educational establishment’s cream of the crop to famous university professors, military officers and diplomats.
When compared to some of the other noble scions of the Imperium, who were often made to master a singular subject while ignoring the others, he was taught in a more balanced manner. His father, however, had always wanted his son to be an even better diplomat than he was. As such, he’d spent much of his education following diplomats around the Imperium on the less-important visits, gathering experience as well as friends beyond the dynasty’s border.
One of those diplomats was Joshua Akrites, of the Polanski branch.
His step-uncle, though the man had gone to great lengths to establish himself as the uncle. When his father had been away or busy, Joshua had taken care of James like a second father.
“I bid you good morning, Your Grace.” The slightly chubby diplomat bowed as he entered.
James rose from his seat with a warm smile, ignoring the man’s confusion to deliver a warm hug. There were fewer Akritans in the galaxy now than ever before since the dynasty’s inception; they could afford closer bonds than those of Sovereign and Minister.
“It’s good to see you on your feet, Uncle.” He said, inspecting his closest living relative. “I hear you’ve confounded my medical staff.”
And that was putting it lightly. The doctors had put him in the long-term recovery group; he should’ve woken up in as few as five years, or as many as fifteen. The hyperdrive-induced sensory overload had caused a frankly explosive heart attack; the emergency response team had barely been able to connect his cardiovascular system to an external pump.
The one beating under his ribs right now wasn’t one bit the same as the one he’d been born with. No, this one was a marvel of cybernetic engineering and flesh-craft, made ever-more-complex by the need to assimilate with a body affected by rejuvenat treatments.
His uncle shook his head, shrugging his words off. “I got tired of sleeping while you were having all the fun, Your Grace.”
James chuckled at his words. “Good, I like the way you think. I confess, you and the rest of the diplomatic corps are sorely needed.”
The diplomat’s eyes focused like a hawk’s. For all of his friendly, welcoming exterior -the side of himself he showed to family and friends-, his uncle was a diplomat first and foremost. One didn’t rise to his rank without a certain degree of passion, and a whole lot of smarts to back it up.
“As you might know, Your Grace, I’ve recently been brought up to speed on the last two years’ development…though I’d like a more detailed explanation of your goals in the Leonis System. The local polities appear to be useful, if problematic, but they require careful treatment.”
“Certainly, if you’ll give me a moment.” James replied, tapping his intercom.
“How may I help you, Your Grace?” The helpful voice of his secretary came out of the speaker.
“Please send in Colonel Guerr and Commander Hall.”
“Oh…that kind of treatment.” His uncle’s eyes widened in realization.
The two officers entered the room shortly there-after, taking seats around the mahogany table.
“Thank you for gathering, everyone.” James spoke. “I hope you all understand that this meeting, and all details thereof, are to be considered top secret information. We will be establishing who and what is brought into the fold at a later date. For now, you should all know that I’ve consulted with Commander Hall in one-to-one meetings on the feasibility of such an operation.”
Opening a locked armored drawer using his biometrics, he pulled out a single folder, stamped ‘TOP SECRET’.
“This, gentlemen, is Operation Pinocchio.”
—
One and a half months after the LRN Tomahawk left Nimbus with James’ proposal of an alliance, the Republican Navy finally sent an envoy to converse with them.
The first to spot the arrival were a set of surveillance satellites set in the system’s Kuiper Belt, who promptly reported it to the akritan fleet orbiting Nimbus I, a volcanic world and the sole planet of the system. It was there that three of the six former penal stations had been built, mining the ring of asteroids floating around the planet-sized volcano.
…
“Admiral on deck.” The marine guard reported as James walked into the flag bridge.
Captain Smith was already there; his tactical officer practically lived inside the chamber.
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“What’s the scope say?” He asked.
“One cruiser and a pair of destroyers, for leonian standards. Not a threat by any stretch of the imagination, if that’s what they were aiming for.” His tactical guru dismissed the envoy’s flotilla.
James shook his head. “Doesn’t matter; I’m not letting anybody saunter into a system of mine without an escort. Which ships can get there the fastest?”
Smith took the barest of a moment to reply. “The Crimson Dawn and Morningstar are returning from a patrol through C5 and C6, roughly ten AU from the Leonis jump point. They’re still burning down an axis close to the jump point, so they need little adjustment; they could make it in as little as twenty-five hours.”
“Good, send them over to give that flotilla an escort to Nimbus-1.”
“Aye sir.”
…
TO: DD164, DD168
SENDER: FLEETCOM
PRIORITY: 2
‘Morningstar’ and ‘Crimson Dawn’ are to divert from their course. STOP. Intercept and escort Leonian Republican Navy task force to Nimbus-1 orbit. STOP. Navigational data attached. Request clarifications as needed.
END OF TRANSMISSION
—
Vice Admiral Colombo Perella was, in the words of his late mother, ‘a noble son of Leonis’. In a word, a noble. Technically he still was, though he would be stupid to demand recognition of that title by the Republican Navy.
The countess had been a big proponent of the royalist faction even before he’d been born, and her abject hate of republican and democratic sentiments among the commoners was well-known.
Colombo had taken much after her, like her political acumen and slim build, but the one thing that set them apart was change, or how either of them reacted to it. For while she fought with every morsel of power she had to maintain the powers of the nobility, he could see the kingdom for the sinking ship it was.
Joining the Republican Navy hadn’t been easy, but his choices were already paying dividends. He was a vice admiral now, and by the stars’ blessing he would retire from the navy a full admiral when the war ended. Regardless of the ideals espoused by the plethora of pro-republican manifestos, the power that the nobility was wielded was sure to end up in the hands of those that had led the revolution…and he was one of them.
By the end of the decade the Perella name would be more powerful than his late mother had ever dreamed, and he would be hailed as a hero of the leonian people.
Of course, all that demanded the republican navy won the damn war…and for that they needed allies. Allies that had been scarce, in stark contrasts to the royalists who’d struck deals with the Concordiat for technology and training.
So here he was, in the kingdom’s former backyard, to talk with a noble -of all things!- about a potential alliance.
When the fleet admiral had informed him he would be in charge of the diplomatic mission, Colombo hadn’t been surprised on bit. Many among the highest ranking officers of the navy had mixed opinions about him, with some regarding him as entirely untrustworthy due to his noble origins, an ideological heretic who didn’t believe in republican values. They were right on the later, though he’d thrown his lot with the republicans before many of the most fervent believers had climbed the totem pole.
Combine the difficulties caused by his presence among the hallowed halls of the republican admiralty with his noble birth, and he was a prime candidate for talks with a ‘fellow noble’…though he felt the Duke was quite different to those of the same title among the leonian nobility.
…
According to the latest reports from NI6, Nimbuswas a dump, literally and metaphorically.
Instead of spending money on costly prisons and reform programs, the kingdom had chosen to populate the system with penal stations. These colonies had only been expanded in the years right before the revolution, with massive influxes of political prisoners whose labor fueled the kingdom’s crumbling economy. The orbitals were ramshackle, built from the cheapest material and equipped with hand-me-downs from the state corporations operating in the Leonis System.
These stations were still present, if changed, though they were no longer the only man-made constructs of Nimbus.
“How many ships does that make, lieutenant-commander?” Colombo asked his tactical officer.
“Seven warships and a dozen cargo haulers, along with a pair of fuel ships and a particularly beefy maintenance ship. Counting the hyper-incapable mining craft, we’re breaching twenty. Two to three million tons combined. Thousands, maybe tens of thousands of sailors.”
Hardly a record-breaking number, though that changed when you put everything under the umbrella of a ducal dynasty. Leonian nobility didn’t even have void-faring warships, though the biggest households could claim the loyalty of several high-ranking officers.
And the warships were hardly small, by any standards. No, these were main or even heavy combatants. Destroyers, cruisers, a heavy cruiser and a battleship. Even more confusing, their transponders all classified them as one class smaller. Colombo had heard of cruisers being classified as ‘heavy missile destroyers’ to comply with some treaty or another, but never had he seen a kilometer-plus ‘battlecruiser’.
Case in point, the pair of ‘destroyers’ escorting his squadron. They were a hundred and fifty meters bigger than his own organic escorts, and absolutely bristling with armaments. The fast cruiser he’d been given for this mission was barely bigger than them, and he doubted its could outfight the pair even with the assistance of its escorting destroyers.
…
It took three days for Colombo’s ships to final enter Nimbus-1’s geosynchronous orbit, during which there was conspicuously little chatter from the akritan side. Meetings were arranged, and the duke himself sent a welcome message via laser-comm, but that was it. Even the discreet inquiries into each former penal station were met with kind but obvious stonewalling.
Nevertheless, Colombo managed to glean a number of clues from sensor data and intercepted, unencrypted radio chatter.
The first thing he learned was that the system hadn’t just been ‘liberated’ by the dynasty. The duke had actually propped up a new government made from locals, though the details on just who and what run the Leonian Free Federation were scarce.
It didn’t help that most of the chatter was…normal.
Whoever run the place made sure the entire system was hard at work. The peripheral stations in the Kuiper Belt were seeing significant automation-geared renovations, with mining operations only intensifying. C4, C5 and C6, those stations set up in orbit of Nimbus-1, were actually being ignored in favor of an entirely new, large orbital.
And sprinkled in between all those, his squadron’s sensors picked up a number of autonomous stations. Sensor platforms, kinetic batteries and swarms of missiles in single-use box launchers, all mounted on or inside asteroids.
It made for a terrifying image, especially because these specific emplacements had only been spotted because they were under construction, with a plethora of drones and shuttlecraft moving about them .
Colombo was certain there were thrice as many that his sensors hadn’t picked up on…lurking inside the asteroid belt where invaders wouldn’t notice them until it was too late.
Just what was the duke planning?