Admiral Stonefist stood in the captain's dais on the bridge of the ISS Swordheart, scanning the data on the massive screen that wrapped around three quarters of the bridge.
The ISS Swordheart and part of the Ninth Fleet were parked in front of a jumphole; the last one before the Alvor system.
If the information he'd gotten was correct, the remainder of the Oryndrax fleet was in the other side of that jumphole. The fleet that had killed innocents at Yellow dog outpost. The ships that had attacked the civilian cruise ship Ophir. The tool of the conspiracy.
If the information was correct, Admiral Stonefist could finally grind out this threat to the Imperium.
"Prepare all tubes," he said. "Deep scanning probes only. I want to know everything that's in that sector."
"Sir," said Lieutenant Baric, "if we send probes, we could alert the enemy to our presence."
Admiral Stonefist tried hard not to cast a disapproving glare at Sol.
"Chances are high that this is a trap," he said. "I'd rather give the enemy some time to prepare than walk blindly into whatever they have set up for me."
"Oh, of... of course, sir."
Lieutenant Baric looked as though he had something else on his mind.
"Speak your mind, Lieutenant."
"Well, sir... if it's a trap, shouldn't we leave it alone?"
"Would that we could. If there's even a slim chance of eliminating the Oryndrax threat, we need to take it. If we leave this fleet running around loose, there's no telling how many raids they'll conduct when they run low on supplies. And without the arkship resupplying them, that's going to happen sooner rather than later."
"I see, sir," Sol said.
"As for our protection, I've thought through all the ways I would trap this," Grimthorn said, "and set up countermeasures. We'll keep the jumphole exits defended and fall back if we have to."
"Understood, sir."
Admiral Stonefist frowned. Kinnit would have understood without needing to be told. She would also have set up a better nav plan than they had. Not that Sol was bad at his job. But he wasn't Kinnit.
Grimthorn pushed thoughts of her out of his mind. He couldn't afford to get distracted now. Focus on the task at hand.
Alvor had three primary jumpholes: one to Deron sector, one to Minda, and one to Rulveobos. Admiral Stonefist's idea was to split the Ninth Fleet into three separate detachments, one for each sector, and swoop in from all three jumpholes simultaneously. With some luck, the fighters would be clustered up, and the Ninth could bathe the Oryndrax fighters in destruction from the fleet's ion cannons, then unleash the Imperium's fighters. Any Oryndrax cruisers could be handled by the Ninth's heavier ships.
This was was complicated by the layout of the jumpholes. They all had different travel times, so the detachments had to carefully synchronize their departure times.
The thornier complication was going to be maintaining the communications between the detachments of the divided fleet.
Comms couldn't travel through jumpholes directly, so message buoys were stationed at every jumphole in the Imperium. Ordinarily, messages were carried through jumpholes, buoy to buoy, then retransmitted on the other end. In this way, a message, much like a ship, could be sent across the galaxy faster than light.
Since there were unknown hostiles in the Alvor system, the Ninth Fleet couldn't use their buoys. Until they were all in the Alvor system, the Ninth Fleet were forced to route their messages through a long, circuitous path. It took nearly thirty minutes to get messages to all the detachment of the fleet.
The three detachments had coordinated before they split, but the lack of immediate communications had Grimthorn on edge. He keenly felt the lack of Kinnit and her planning capability.
He shook his head. Focus. Sol was a perfectly adequate assistant. Even if he was not nearly as capable as Kinnit.
His mouth twisted wryly. Before Kinnit, Lieutenant Baric was almost exactly what he would have expected-- what he would have wanted from an assistant.
"Sir, messages back from the other detachments," Sol said. "They're prepared for the attack."
"Very good. Launch the probes. I want every detail, down to the color of their underwear."
"Sir," said the fire control officer. "Probes away."
"Get those torpedo tubes loaded back up. I want neutron warheads in there. If we get an ugly surprise, I want an ugly surprise for them, too."
The minutes stretched out as data trickled back through the wormhole buoy. The infographers were busily processing the raw data and creating a visualization of the Alvor system.
A picture steadily emerged. The Alvor system had a bright yellow star, orbited by a gleaming green planet. It was slightly too hot to be comfortably habitable for Terrans, but was probably fine for bugs.
Nearly a hundred detachments of Vylar fighters were stationed around the planet. Each Oryndrax group had a few dozen fighters supporting a cruiser or light destroyer.
"Standard defensive posture," Grimthorn said, reviewing the data. "Too bad they didn't cluster up, but I guess they can't all be easy." He looked over at the temporal officer. "What's our time-to-departure?"
"Approximately five minutes, sir."
"Very good. Infography, report."
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"Mass readings are stable, sir. No evidence of heavy weapons, quantum disruptors, or hidden ships or traps. The only energy signatures are from the Vylar fighters and the Oryndrax escorts."
"Sir!" Lieutenant Renning reported. "Data from the probes has stopped!"
"They must have been destroyed. The Oryndrax know we're here, now. No point in waiting any more. Let's head in. The rest of the fleet should show up in a few minutes. We can grab the bugs' attention, give the other detachments an opportunity for a flank attack."
"Sir, should we..." Lieutenant Baric trailed off.
"Yes, Lieutenant?"
"N-nothing, sir."
"Speak your mind."
Lieutenant Baric wrestled with himself for a moment before speaking.
"Shouldn't we stick to the plan, sir? Wait for the rest of the fleet?"
Grimthorn laid a fatherly hand on the young man's shoulder.
"No plan survives first contact," he said. "Always be flexible in combat. Go in with an idea, not a plan. Plans lock you into a course of action. Ideas can change."
Sol nodded uncertainly.
"Yes, sir."
The Deron detachment, containing the ISS Swordheart, turned for the jumphole.
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"Four point two relative minutes in jumpspace!" called the temporal officer. Sharp pinpricks of light glittered mercilessly, casting their light on the hull of the ISS Swordheart as the it emerged in the Alvor system. The warm yellow sun greeted them cheerily.
As soon as the Swordheart was clear of the jumphole, it began lobbing ion shells as fast as they could be loaded. Each shell disabled several fighters as it flared blue, flooding the area around it with with electromagnetic destruction.
"Get our fighters out!" called Admiral Stonefist. "Keep those blasters ready, they'll be all over us in a minute. Torpedo control, target the nearest escort ships. Let's knock out as many as we can. Renning, keep those scanners going, and send all data to infography. I want to know as soon as anything unexpected shows up."
Angular Imperial fighters swept out of the Swordheart in orderly formations. They broke off into orderly squads, heading for the incoming Vylar fighters. Narrow flashes of light traced the path of blaster bolts as dogfighting broke out.
The Vylar fighters, manned by Oryndrax pilots, were more nimble than their Imperial counterparts, but they were more lightly armed. The Imperial fighters had heavy blasters with a slower rate of fire, but longer range.
Admiral Stonefist watched the dogfighting unfold. The Imperial pilots worked together, isolating fighters from the enemy squadron and blasting them apart before picking another target. The Oryndrax pilots were not good at working together, but the Vylar fighters were equipped with an AI that tried to work with its neighbors in combat. Each Oryndrax was a team of one, so they were constantly fighting what their ships wanted them to do.
Nonetheless, the AI tactics were blunting the effectiveness of the Imperial fighters.
"Sir! The Deron and Rulveobos detachments have arrived!"
"Very good. Send them all the information from our scans. Have them hit the squadrons on the flanks."
The battle raged for twenty minutes. It was clear very early on that, even though the Oryndrax had thousands of fighters, they were simply outgunned by the might of the Ninth Fleet.
Unfortunately, the Oryndrax literally didn't have a word in their language for "surrender." They'd have to be crushed utterly, down to the last bug.
Grimthorn kept one eye on the battle, and another on the data from the ongoing scans, watching for the trap.
As the last few Vylar fighters flared into nothingness, Grimthorn tensed.
"All detachments, hedgehog formation!" he called.
Quiet settled across the sector as the Ninth Fleet formed three spherical formations, all guns pointed outward.
Long minutes passed.
"Where is it?" Grimthorn muttered.
"Sir?" Sol asked. "Did we... win?"
Grimthorn scowled. He felt like a man who'd miscounted the stairs, and tried to climb one extra stair that wasn't there.
Was this really all it was? Was the Oryndrax threat eliminated?
"Fleet, fan out," he ordered. "Scan the planet again. Look for any signs of hostility, weapons, bombs, anything."
The Ninth Fleet spent nearly an hour searching for a threat that never materialized.
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Sol walked away from the bridge on rubbery legs. The combat had been terrifying but exhilarating.
This was more his bailiwick.
Sol had been glued to the ebb and flow of battle while the Admiral had been watching for a lurking threat.
That was probably why Admiral Stonefist was so effective in battle.
Sol had read plenty of books on space combat, but being in the thick of it was something else entirely. In that moment, he wondered if he'd picked the right goal for his career.
Helping people was wonderful, but... maybe he should aim to be a captain someday.
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Imperial Navy Cracks Down After Costly Leak by Koro Melemann In the wake of a devastating security breach that led to the loss of 17 Imperial Navy vessels in combat, military leadership is implementing sweeping reforms to tighten security and prevent future disasters. Along with a series of process improvements, one long-overdue policy shift has been introduced by Commander Ordren of Central Command: SS personnel will no longer be permitted to hold sensitive positions within the Imperial Navy. The move follows a shocking case in which an SS officer was assigned to a highly classified role aboard an undisclosed flagship, despite a record of misconduct. The officer in question had previously endangered the fleet with reckless maneuvers near a black hole, had ties with an anti-Imperial conspiracy, and had even murdered a crewmate. Despite this egregious behavior, her crimes were covered up and she remained in her post due to her superior’s apparent pro-SS bias. With her removal, the Navy aims to protect the brave and dedicated men and women who serve our glorious Imperium. Officials say the reforms mark a critical step toward restoring trust and ensuring operational security in future engagements.
Grimthorn barked a swear that would have earned him a demerit if he were not an Admiral. He stood up from his desk and faced the portal, staring deep into the stars.
He knew better than to read the news, even when he wasn't already in a foul mood. He'd been out of sorts since they'd eliminated the remainder of the Oryndrax fleet.
Strangely, this new outrage, rather than driving him further to distraction, pushed him beyond any anger he'd ever known, into some cold fury on the far side of rage. He was calm, clear, and filled with a terrible resolve.
This would end in blood.
His scanner beeped.
"Encrypted comm, sir," came the voice from the small device.
"Put it through."
That familiar, distorted voice came through again.
"Thank you, Admiral," the voice said. "I've just heard that you eliminated the Oryndrax fleet. The conspiracy is in a tizzy."
Admiral Stonefist took a calming breath.
"Thank you," Grimthorn replied. "For helping us remove a threat to the Imperium. I'll admit I was skeptical, but your information was accurate."
"I'm... pleased. The conspiracy, it's... it's getting more dangerous. Fracturing. I think it's about to come apart at the seams."
"Go on."
"I want to crack it open. Burn the whole thing down, end it. But I need protection. I-- I've committed crimes. Can you to protect me, Admiral?"
"I'm not involved in the judiciary," Grimthorn said, "but I will vouch for your assistance in any court proceedings, and use what influence I have to ask the court for leniency for you."
There was a long silence on the other end.
"That's... generous, Admiral. More than I deserve. Very well. I know who the leader of the conspiracy is. Take him down, and the conspiracy will crumble."
"Who?"
A long pause.
"Commander Quom Ordren."
Grimthorn's vision vanished in a rush of white-hot fury. Of course. Ordren.
It all made sense now.
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Senn Sehren smiled as he disconnected the call and turned off the voice filter. Idrian and Rex looked on breathlessly.
"I would give any amount of money to be able to watch Admiral Stonefist right now," he said.
Senn steepled his fingers and stared in satisfaction at the scanner lying on the table.
"Now, Admiral," he said. "Let us see if you'll commit treason."