Ground Control, page 2
The noise was quieter this time. A sudden gasp, then nothing.
“And if it does?” Chang Ling asked.
“Then you will convince the entire Balhee Cluster to assist you in what comes next,” Heather ground the words out, stopping herself short of a full explanation because these Scholars still venerated Socrates, all these millennia later.
“They already do,” the First Elector noted.
“They help defend the Cluster, because they know they would be the next victim of Zerzan,” Heather corrected. “Now, they must decide if they will take the war to Zerzan worlds.”
“How will we convince them?” Chang Ling asked.
“I have a Herald,” Heather said, nodding Wen towards the door behind her.
Prologue: Makara
Kyulle Station One, Kyulle Orbital Space
Makara, Lord Morninghawk, had watched Heather enter the lion’s den, after losing the argument with her that she should take him with her.
His job was always to be the escort. He had done it for Phil. Now it was Heather’s turn, because it was her war.
But she had ordered him to wait outside, and Makara had accepted her. She commanded. He escorted.
He was The Morninghawk.
The hatch opened sooner than Makara had expected and Old Man Wen silently gestured him to enter.
Makara towered over the man physically, but only physically. The other Scholars all tended to be shorter, save for the First Elector, who had his height and significantly outmassed him.
Makara came to rest on Heather’s left flank, in the forward shield position were they flying.
Or fighting.
Escort.
Morninghawk.
He ignored Heather and addressed himself to the room. The Scholars of Yaumgan.
The Electorate itself, distilled down to an essence and made flesh.
The First Elector was standing. Not threatening Heather, so he did not move to intercept. Merely observed.
“She claims you as her Herald,” Li began without prelude.
But Heather had prepared him for this battle at least as well as she had both raids into Zerzan forward bases.
“I am Morninghawk,” he said simply.
Inwardly, Makara fought not to roll his eyes at how arrogant and grandiose that sounded, but it contained the core of truth that made him what he was. And the demigod that would no doubt take his place quietly to one side when Phil, Heather, and Jessica Keller were deified by history.
“Will the Balhee Cluster follow you?” Li asked.
“They will follow Heather,” he countered. “I am merely the bannerman that shows them where to rally. And leads them into battle.”
“Leads?” Ambassador Hu asked, not rising from the couch.
“Closest to the enemy,” Makara quoted.
He had read Jessica Keller, Volumes One and Two. And had met Tomas Kigali in the flesh many times. That was the legend—the excellence—that Makara strove for, each morning when he got out of bed.
“Will they come?” Old Man Wen asked next, stepping up next to the First Elector, as though mirroring the tableaux. “Will they rally?”
“Dalou merely awaits the signal beacon being lit,” Makara replied. “Gloran as well. Aditi will come. Ewin has committed. Stormhawk will bear Heather’s banner. But it will be Yaumgan that leads.”
“You are not Yaumgan,” he challenged in that intellectual way he liked to do things, frequently over wine or coffee.
“We are all Yaumgan,” Makara snapped at the man. “We will hang together, or we will surely hang separately. The ancient scholar said that, and he was correct.”
Old Man Wen seemed taken aback, but these people were only Scholars, for all their intellectual brilliance.
None of them had stood with Phil at Meerut. None had faced down Wulfa. They would not know such things in their bones.
“And if the war takes you to Zerzan?” the First Elector asked patiently, mostly for the fools around the edges of the room, still in disbelief.
“Phil warned them,” Makara growled. “They have acknowledged that line in the sand. And crossed it. Created an invasion fleet intended to Unify Balhee. Zerzan has already forfeited its right to exist. We will unmake them.”
Makara could almost taste the rage coming off of Heather behind him. The Scholars gasped and recoiled.
Most of them. The three closest did not, but they were not his enemies.
The First Elector turned to Heather.
“The Electorate will not choose to cease,” she spoke. “How do we go about winning a war in such a way that it does not turn into a genocide at the end?”
“I will need everything the Electorate has,” Heather said. “And the rest of Balhee. Already, I have sent messengers home to Ladoux and St. Legier, but those will be a year in returning with help, so the Cluster must rise up now. Immediately. I have the power to threaten Zerzan while they are off-balance and force them back more before they can recover. If we move today.”
Makara nodded.
And watched the First Elector turn to the room.
Ambassador Hu rose abruptly. The breathing of the Scholars utterly ceased.
“I move that the Electorate declare war on the Unification,” he said quietly.
Like the first pebble that initiates an avalanche might be quiet.
“Second,” Wen replied, adding another stone.
“It is moved and seconded,” the First Elector noted formally, unleashing havoc, however small as yet. “Is there discussion?”
Nothing.
Makara was not surprised. It had come down to a literal existential crisis for Yaumgan.
Kill, or be killed. Even those pitiful fools in Ewin could understand that much.
“All in favor?” she asked to a roar of voices.
“Opposed?”
Silence.
“The motion is carried,” Li noted and turned back. “I will have a formal declaration written up so that it can be transmitted to the Zerzan Unification at Kohri.”
“No,” Makara stated flatly.
“No?” she asked, turning her immense scowl back to him.
It still paled next to Heather’s.
“I will deliver it personally.” Makara bowed to the room. “I am the Herald of Balhee.”
Prologue: Veronika
Date of the Republic January 13, 417 Kyulle Shipyard One, Kyulle Orbit
Veronika stood in the shipyard bay and tried not to drool. Beside her, Saša Binici and Yan Bedrov laughed.
“Told you,” Rocket Frog said to the old pirate.
“Not disputing,” Yan acknowledged. “Still fun to watch. Kids these days.”
“I remember my first,” the Frog said, reaching out and grabbing Veronika’s arm and dragging her closer. “Let’s go see.”
Veronika recognized Mejico, her Durga-class Heavy Gunship, as they walked right up under it. Rebuilt slightly, with the forward section chopped off and stretched to insert two new seats behind her original cockpit.
The boarding ladder was down and Veronika followed Rocket Frog up into the interior.
Forward, to those two new stations.
“You’ll sit here,” Yan explained, touching the one to starboard. “Your Flag Centurion is behind you. We modified your old station up front to put an electronic warfare specialist up next to Sergi. She’ll handle sensors and certain tactical things, freeing you up to command the entire Heavy Wing.”
The ENTIRE Heavy Wing, because Warlord Lau had decided that she liked having forty-two Heavy Gunships available as a single striking force, and was having the Fleet Carrier Transport Yong Hao reconfigured to handle the load. Four teams of ten, breaking up the old formation of eights and twelves to provide RAN-trained commanders for every grouping until more folks could be trained up. One Scout model, ripping out almost all of the beams and adding sensors intended for an Escort Destroyer. One Command model, with Griever aboard in her new capacity as Strike Centurion.
Local commander when there wasn’t a senior officer around, and that meant that Captain Ang Ta and Air Boss Hao Lai generally answered to Veronika, rather than the other way around.
Heady, crazy stuff, considering that she had only graduated from the Academy as a Flight Cornet less than two years ago. But this was a new war with a new fleet, and the Warlord didn’t really have the forces she needed in place to carry it to Zerzan, so everyone was making it up as they went.
Including Veronika.
She moved to the cockpit, to the space she used to sit.
“And the scout?” she asked Yan.
“Beetle is taking over the rebuilt Yukon Antares and going through a crash course from Ainsley in how to be sneaky,” Yan nodded. “He’s from Tuloong’s Light Gunship wing, but I like the kid. Will take them some time to jell, like always, but that’s a new crew thrown together, in a new ship, with new tech and a new way of thinking.”
“Story of my life,” Veronika muttered.
“Mine, too, Griever,” he commiserated. “And I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you have.”
“Heather really going to invade Zerzan?” she asked, turning to look past the old man and include Rocket Frog in the conversation.
“That’s the word,” Saša nodded. “Formal declaration of war and everything. All the shit those folks didn’t do for us.”
“Oh, they’d have probably transmitted something from orbit,” Yan offered. “Over our dead and smoking hulls. Like those other yahoos at Second Petron. Followed by orders to surrender or be bombed. I’m certain they would have obeyed certain legal forms. Just none of the nice ones.”
Veronika put on her Griever game face and studied the two who had probably done the most to train her since last May.
“What does a Strike Centurion do, anyway?” she asked.
“Thinks like a pirate,” Yan smiled. “Like you did at that second moorage base, when you stole those two megatransports filled with food. I’m guessing that Heather wants to use the old Strike Carrier logic that got updated for Shanhai Pass and Tuloong, and step all the way up to Strategic Carrier Operations. Deep raids into Zerzan space, mostly to blow shit up. Hurt them and make them react defensively.”
“Can we pull that off?” Griever asked, turning sober and serious.
A new ship, new rank, and new responsibilities were fantastic, but they came with costs.
“Not against an Overlord Carrier,” Saša nodded. “That’s nearly a thousand aeromechia they can throw at you. But they can’t have that many of those ships, from the intel I’ve been privy to. Instead, you’re looking at a scattering of Assault Carriers. Fifty mechs against forty Heavies isn’t even a remotely fair fight, so you can do a lot of damage. Remember, they have to defend everywhere, while an attacker gets to pick what she hits.”
“Pirates,” Griever said.
“Kid, I used to make a decent enough living at it,” Yan smiled. “Way before your time, obviously, or even hers, but those yahoos have never had a serious piracy problem to deal with, just like they’ve never met someone who could stand there and punch them in the gob. Hopefully, Heather has started messing with their minds even more than you did when you promised to return to the scene of your crime.”
Griever allowed herself a smile at that. Rude taunt, but sane people didn’t become pilots.
“And yes,” Saša acknowledged. “It will be hard. Probably worse than anything any of us have done, because the distance from Petron to St. Legier is less than we’re talking in a campaign like this. Fly faster because you’re between arms, but still huge gaps.”
“A long way from home,” Griever nodded.
But she was already that. Gone from St. Legier where she’d grown up. Four years on Ladaux, in the Republic of Aquitaine because Fribourg wasn’t ready yet for women pilots and commanders.
Now across that gap to Balhee, and it was just the next step on that road.
“Now what?” she asked the two of them.
“Now, you will take your newly expanded crew and haul them out for some quick shakedowns,” Yan replied soberly. “Then the whole Forward Strike Wing you’ll be commanding. Heather isn’t about to sit around planning. As soon as everyone is loaded and ready to sail, we’ll be out looking for Zerzan. Chasing them. Hitting them if they haven’t moved fast enough to outrun her. Remember, we’re talking a huge fleet here. They might break up and run like hell, but they might also try to hold that invasion force together as long as they can.”
“Until we start eating their lunch,” Griever smiled. “Literally, in our case, since we stole so much food from them last time.”
“Exactly,” he said.
Griever followed them aft and down, back onto the yard’s bay.
The war had gotten serious.
Soon, it would turn deadly.
Chapter 1
Date of the Republic January 21, 417 EM Shanhai Pass, Kyulle Orbit
Heather sat in her spot on her flag bridge—her flag bridge, no longer expecting to see Phil sitting here—and studied the faces around her.
Senior Centurion Saltanat Blau, her Flag Centurion, directly across the round table from her. Admiral of the White Donatien Fortier, formerly Chevalier of the Unification, on Heather’s left, acting as Overall Air Boss of the combined forces at her disposal, with both Ainsley and Saša happy to acknowledge the man’s expertise and provide command of smaller groups.
Nobody Heather knew had more expertise in carrier operations on this scale than him. Even the Unification only had a few people Donatien considered to be in his league. Chevalier Amable Bellamy, who had commanded both the Overlord Bertev and the invasion force according to records she had captured, wasn’t one that Donatien respected all that much.
After seeing what he’d done to prepare, Heather didn’t disagree. Griever’s reports had used the word methodical to describe that base. Donatien had adopted the term, expanding it to all of the Unification.
A civilization that dislikes jazz. Didn’t understand its power, or its potential.
She nodded and checked the images projected around the table, here in spirit but on their own bridges. Command Centurion Erle Kuiper, commanding Shanhai Pass forward with Rocket Frog as Air Boss. Yan, Alber’ d’Maine, and Ainsley Barrett on Tuloong. Morninghawk leading aboard his unicorn, with IFV Ilves and Captain Alexander Karl right behind that, both escorting the big Motherships.
One image was a list of names, reflecting the various escorts, both Destroyers and older Bipeds, plus the many cargo ships that would accompany this next mission, including Able and Baker, stolen most recently from Amable Bellamy by Griever.
Considering how much smaller her fleet was in terms of actual crew members needing to be fed daily, Heather could stay at sea for a long time, emptying first Able, then sending it home while Baker fed everyone, both ships eventually falling into some sort of rotation as Heather built or occupied her own forward bases to extend her reach.
She nodded at the faces around her. Most of them smiled back.
“Yaumgan Strike Fleet, this is Lau, aboard Shanhai Pass,” she said slowly, knowing that these words would be replayed many times. History in the making. “I have the flag. Zerzan could not live in peace, and chose to send an invasion force. We have pushed them back. Now we will carry the war to them. All vessels conform to Stormhawk. Morninghawk, begin standard acceleration and call the cadence.”
“This is Morninghawk,” the man said in that deep voice. “Transition in sixty seconds from MARK.”
Heather took a quick look at the rest of the tonnage left behind to defend Kyulle. A full fleet recently arrived from Dalou. Another from Gloran, both a mixture of older ships and newer ones. Representative squadrons of Aditi and Ewin. The Aquitaine fleet under the Heavy Dreadnoughts Kongō and Warspite. A smaller squadron of Imperial vessels led by the Heavy Dreadnought Firehawk, named after the battleship that had stood at St. Legier against the coup, when Keller saved the Empire the first time.
Kyulle would be protected, because Heather would starve any invading fleet slipping by her by destroying or stealing every can of food they had.
She could not win a direct fight against that many aeromechia, but she didn’t have to, unless they cornered her.
Amateurs study tactics. Professionals study strategy. Warlords study logistics.
As the fleet transitioned to JumpSpace, Heather was pretty sure she heard the Iron Duke laughing at her from hell. Hopefully, he’d save her a place at the bar.
Chapter 2
Unification Hall, Kohri
President of the Unification Commission Angelique St. Pierre worked hard not to frown, knowing that it would eventually leave wrinkles, after she worked so hard on diet, exercise, and meditation to present as a woman at least ten years younger. The plastic surgery helped, but couldn’t carry the load alone.
Across the desk, Unification Chevalier Bellamy. Not exactly called home in disgrace, because he’d redeemed himself somewhat with evidence of spies that had warned Yaumgan where to find his fleet and when to perfectly time their attack to do the most damage.
Before moving on and hamstringing the invasion with their second raid.
Angelique paused to smile at the man. For now.
“What is the status of your force?” she asked, mostly to follow up on the reports.
Bertev had raced madly ahead of the others to report, because he had been convinced that the as-yet-undiscovered spies originated on his deck. Or Rauda, the other vessel that had seen its command staff broken because of Donatien Fortier.
Both had returned to Kohri, leaving most of the rest behind, sectioned down into squadrons forward protecting those bases that spread out like chains from there, looking back at Zerzan.
“We can hold for now,” he said. “The forward forces will need to rethink their resupply processes, because we know of at least one spy that fled with the raiders when they attacked the second moorage. Internal security will need to pay closer attention to the civilian crews, lest they somehow transmit sensitive information to Yaumgan, revealing any weak spots.”
