CHAPTER 21: INDEPENDENCE
6 Months after the invasion of Sol
War has never been a desirable outcome for those who serve on the front lines. Throughout human history, soldiers and sailors involved in Earth's major wars and battles would tell you the same thing: no matter how brave or courageous a person may be, the anticipation of battle always shakes you to your core. This truth carries even greater weight in the unforgiving realm of space combat, where the vast emptiness of the cosmos amplifies uncertainty to an almost unbearable degree. The wait for conflict can stretch on for days, weeks, or even months, each passing moment a relentless reminder of the impending violence lurking just beyond the void. The sailors, soldiers, and officers aboard the Independence, along with the other capital and sub-capital ships serving in the defense fleet, have spent those agonizing months vigilantly monitoring the Federation defense network. They have witnessed multiple alien fleets encroaching upon the star system, systematically annihilating stations and outposts one by one. From the distant Pluto colony to the orbital and sub-orbital science stations surrounding Neptune and Uranus, and finally to the devastation of outposts and colonies around Saturn, the grim spectacle of waiting and watching for the inevitable has weighed heavily on every member of the fleet, a collective burden of dread that permeates the air like a lingering fog, thick enough to cut through with a knife.
For the first time in centuries, Earth was left undefended, abandoned to fate. In an unusual twist of destiny, Earth and Mars found themselves aligned just as the Alliance fleet positioned itself to strike both worlds. Orbital mechanics dictated that the remainder of the Alliance fleet was stationed on the opposite side of the star, far from Venus and Mercury, rendering them unable to pose a significant threat. Mars would be the first target after traversing the treacherous Asteroid Belt, a perilous journey that could easily spell doom for any unprepared vessel. Ceres, by a stroke of luck, escaped immediate danger, finding itself detached from the fleet's advance and left untouched, a solitary planetoid in the chaos that surrounded it. Admiral Briggs seized this opportunity presented by the celestial mechanics, positioning the vast majority of the fleet in outer Mars orbit, prepared for the inevitable confrontation that hung in the balance like a sword of Damocles, casting a long shadow over their future.
"Sitrep," Admiral Briggs mumbled through a yawn as he stepped onto the bridge, his voice hoarse from fatigue, a rawness that punctuated the urgency of the moment. For the third consecutive week, he had been surviving on a handful of hours of sleep, a state of exhaustion that blurred the lines of clarity and muddled his judgment like a fogged-over window. Today was no different; after enduring a grueling 36-hour watch, he headed straight for the coffee pot, having only managed three hours of rest in his stateroom, a luxury he could scarcely afford amidst the growing tension that seemed to seep into the very walls of the ship.
"You asked that four hours ago," Captain Smith remarked, a hint of exasperation in her tone as she approached the Admiral, holding out a steaming cup of coffee, its aroma a welcome promise of alertness that wrapped around him like a warm embrace.
"Ah, thank you, Captain." Briggs took a modest sip of the seemingly boiling beverage, relishing the warm intake of caffeine that coursed through him like a much-needed lifeline, a jolt that momentarily reignited his weary spirit. "So, what's different?"
"Actually, something peculiar," Captain Smith replied, gesturing toward the fleet command room, where officers clustered around the central holo display unit, intently studying the data as if it were a crucial lifeline. She pressed a few buttons on the terminal, and a holographic representation of the Jovian system materialized, illuminating a significant portion of the space before the two officers, the flickering lights casting shadows of concern on their faces, revealing the anxiety etched in their features.
"Is this current?" Briggs inquired, his brow furrowing in concern as he scrutinized the display, searching for answers in the swirling data.
"Yes, sir, but with a 35-minute delay." That span of time might be just enough to vacate a jump point before an enemy ship could detect your presence, yet it was a glaringly brief window when observing an enemy's movements toward a celestial body. "I can't understand it."
"So they are just sitting there, ignoring Jovia?" he asked, disbelief creeping into his voice, a mix of frustration and confusion bubbling just beneath the surface.
"Not a single shot has been fired, no landing craft has been launched," she replied, her voice steady despite the weight of the situation, a calm in the eye of the impending storm.
"This does not align with their usual modus operandi," Briggs mused aloud, gripping the edge of the console as he pondered the implications, his mind racing with the possibilities.
"No, sir. Even the intel analysts are struggling to make heads or tails of it," she added, glancing at the officers around them, each one echoing her uncertainty, the atmosphere thick with apprehension.
Briggs continued to scrutinize the tactical plot, aware that he was missing a critical piece of information needed to devise a plan or, at the very least, a response. "Comms." A thought nagged at the back of his mind, an itch he couldn’t ignore. "Instruct engineering to power the antimatter reactors to 1%, and broadcast a comm request to the WarpStar and to Admiral Enki."
"Comms, aye," the third-shift comms officer acknowledged the orders, fingers flying over the controls as they worked to execute the commands with precision.
"Remember, sir, there is a high probability they can detect hyperspace comms," Captain Smith whispered, reminding the weary Admiral of the risks involved, the gravity of their situation hanging like a storm cloud ready to unleash its fury.
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"I'm aware of that, Captain. I believe we need to risk breaking radio silence," Briggs replied, steeling himself for the potential consequences, a resolve hardening within him.
Olivia nodded as she turned her attention back to the plot, determined to decode the enigma herself, her mind racing with possibilities, a whirlwind of theories clashing in her thoughts.
"Sir," the communications junior reported back after a few minutes of silence, tension thick in the air like fog before a storm. "I have WarpStar actual on audio only. The interference has increased; we can't establish a video link without boosting power."
"That's quite all right, Ensign. Audio will suffice. Put him on the speakers," Briggs commanded, his voice steady as he fought to maintain control of the mounting anxiety.
The speakers crackled, and static filled the air as the communication officer adjusted the feed, striving to minimize the interference that marred their connection. Unfortunately, some background noise remained, distorting the transmission. "Admiral, I wasn't expecting to hear from you again until the flair was lit," John's voice came through, distorted but comprehensible, tinged with surprise that echoed the urgency of their situation.
"The situation has evolved, Captain. Do you have a sitrep?" Briggs pressed, urgency creeping into his tone, a sense of foreboding wrapping around his words.
"Aye, sir. We have successfully made contact with Alpha Centauri. The Vice President has informed the Centaurian government of our circumstances, and the fleet is assembled and ready for the flair," John relayed, his voice reassuring, a flicker of hope amidst the darkness.
"Good, finally some good news!" Briggs felt a flicker of hope igniting within him, washing away the fatigue that had weighed him down for so long, a brief respite from the crushing pressure of command that had become his constant companion.
"Sir," the comms officer interrupted again, his voice cutting through the moment of relief. "I have Admiral Enki and Foreign Minister Bortsova on the line."
"Excellent," Briggs replied, feeling a surge of anticipation and purpose, a renewed sense of duty igniting within him. "Add them to the channel." Static continued to crackle as the two new participants joined the call, their presence a reminder of the stakes at hand, a living testament to the gravity of their impending decisions. "Minister, do you happen to have a situation report?"
"Yes, Admiral. I have explained the situation to Fleet Admiral Grigorievich; the Republic Fleet is standing by for your signal," Bortsova responded, her voice steady and authoritative, filled with the assurance of someone aware of the weight of her words.
Admiral Briggs smiled, his day beginning to brighten with newfound optimism. The remainder of the Federation's Sol fleet was now in outer Mars orbit, the Centauri fleet was gathered and ready for orders, and now two additional fleets stood prepared to assist in the fight. The Republic, a long-standing adversary that had been at war with the Federation for centuries, and a new ally—the alien race known as the Sumerians—had pledged to defend Earth. Technically part of the Alliance, the Sumerians were committing what could be considered treason against their government, but what the Alliance deemed treason, the Sumerian government labelled as revolution. "Admiral Enki," Briggs called out, seeking the Sumerian Fleet Admiral's attention, his voice firm and resolute, a quiet strength underlying his words.
"I am here, Admiral Briggs. How may I be of assistance?" Enki replied, his tone measured yet ready, a calmness that belied the chaos around them.
"Take a look at this data; their fleet is behaving oddly." He transmitted a data stream over the unsecured hyperspace network, taking a calculated risk that Alliance intelligence was monitoring the transmission. Admiral Briggs hoped to illuminate the reasons behind the Alliance's hesitation to obliterate the Jovian system, a strategic puzzle that needed solving, a key to understanding their next move.
"This is strange, indeed," Enki replied after several minutes of silence, his voice laced with concern. "Their usual tactic involves obliterating any obstacles in their path to the main target, then adjusting as needed. I've never seen them halt like this unless your gas giant is the target."
Briggs continued to study the map, confusion clouding his thoughts, a cacophony of possibilities swirling in his mind. 'Why would they destroy Andronov, then Orion, then target the Outer Rim planets, only to suddenly stop at Jupiter?' The nagging feeling in the back of his mind intensified, screaming at him that he was missing something crucial, a vital thread that could unravel the entire tapestry of their strategy.
"Admiral, look." Captain Smith broke his trance as she pointed toward the holographic display, urgency igniting her words, her eyes wide with revelation. Everyone in the intelligence room and those present on the hypernet call watched in astonishment as yet another mystery unfolded before their eyes. The vast majority of the Alliance fleet that had parked itself in various orbits around the Jovian system began to accelerate toward Sol once again, moving without firing a shot, a silent march into the unknown, a disconcerting display that sent ripples of anxiety through the ranks.
"It appears only four battleships and three cruisers have remained behind," Captain Smith observed, her voice steady despite the tension that crackled through the air like electricity before a storm. "They're traveling at four g's, which puts them at three days out."
"Admiral," Admiral Grigorievich interjected, adding his voice to the conversation with a sense of urgency that was palpable. "The Republic fleet is ready to engage at your command."
"Thank you, Admiral. On behalf of all of us at the Federation, we deeply appreciate the Republic's assistance. When this is over, I owe you a drink," Briggs replied, feeling a sense of camaraderie that was rare between their historically warring nations, a flicker of hope in the midst of despair. The two admirals exchanged respectful nods, acknowledging the fleeting moment of unity amidst the backdrop of chaos, a bond forged in the fires of adversity. "All right, everyone, we have just days to prepare your crews. Right now, they think we are vulnerable. I won't lie; we are. However, I’m not willing to reveal our hand just yet, so be ready. When you see the Independence light up brighter than Sol itself, that's your cue." With that commanding order, every officer understood their responsibilities, a silent promise of resolve settling over them like a cloak. A heavy silence enveloped the conference call as the leaders of the respective ships and fleets signed off, each one aware of the weight of the task ahead, the stakes rising with each passing moment. Briggs looked up toward the ceiling, silently praying for a miracle from his God, fully aware that he was about to engage in the most dangerous confrontation of his life—one that could seal the fate of not only himself but also the men and women under his command, as well as the survival of the human race itself. Fear washed over the seasoned military veteran, a tide of dread for his own life, for the lives of his crew, and for the uncertain future of humanity, each heartbeat echoing the gravity of the moment, a reminder that in the face of annihilation, hope was a fragile flame that must be fiercely protected.