chapter iii

        “What the hell happened in there? I thought we were safe from things like this,” I said to Conan as we walked out of the conference room. We had just spent three hours going over potential plans to retake Adrona, and I was mentally exhausted.

        Conan looked at me with irritation in his eyes. “What are you complaining about? You get to be an Admiral, you get your own office, you get to boss even more people around, and you get 20 credits to add to your name. Life is sweet!” He laughed and slapped me on the back.

        I laughed in spite of how I felt. “You really are a dogeyhole, Connie.”

        He continued laughing for a minute, and then stopped and looked around. “We need to find somewhere private and secure to talk about this before we go back to our subordinates.”

        I looked around. We were on what was called the Flag Deck, because this was where most of the Admirals had their offices. “Why don’t we just go to your office?”

        “Because I don’t know if it has ears. I haven’t swept recently.” By that he meant he didn’t know if someone had bugged his office, and he hadn’t checked to make sure in the last week or so.

I chuckled as a new thought occurred to me. “We could go to your new office. I’ll bet you a hundred credits that Styx sweeps his office every damn day, and it’s probably empty by now.”

“I have a twenty-credit-per-day bet limit with you, so no bet. But do you really think he has vacated his office already?”

“Uh, yeah, I do. You do realize the flag meeting ended over three hours ago?”

He looked at his timedial. “No daz? Well, I guess we’ll find out.”

We walked down the hall and turned the corner toward Starfighter Operations. We walked to the outer office of the Sector Five CSO, and found a monster standing in the office.

An eleven-foot-tall snake was stretching to the top of a bookcase. It was camouflage green and brown, and, I knew from experience, had three rows of razor-sharp teeth and four eyes. Despite knowing immediately what it was, I still inhaled sharply and froze, as did Conan.

As we watched, the snake grabbed something off the top shelf with its mouth, and turned around to put what looked like a book down. When he saw us, he dropped the book on the floor and began to shrink. We watched the snake become a light-skinned, featureless humanoid.

The “snake” was an Assisk, a species from the planet Tarsh. Assisk were probably the coolest aliens I had ever come across. They were, in their natural form, a featureless, light-skinned humanoid with no nose, no mouth, and no hair. They had ear holes, but no ears. They looked like unfinished clay statuettes. However, they had the ability to change their shape to anything they had seen or touched, an ability they called polymimeticism.  

As the Assisk finished reforming himself, I saw the bars of a lieutenant pop onto his uniform, and realized he was probably attached to this office as the CSO’s aide. I’m sure the lieutenant would have loved to meet his new boss a different way, but it could have been worse.

[Admirals, I apologize. I couldn’t reach the book, and shifting to a snake is easier than trying to find a ladder.]

Since the Assisk evolved without a mouth, they had to develop a way to speak. Nature chose for them to broadcast those words into the minds of their recipients.

I kept my mouth shut while Conan handled the response. “That’s all right, Lieutenant. That’s actually a very clever application of your abilities. However, in the future, perhaps you could turn into a Noko and fly up there. Noko’s are decidedly less intimidating.”

The Lieutenant looked as abashed as a featureless humanoid could. [Yes, sir, I will be sure to do that in the future. What can I do for you gentlemen?]

We looked at each other, sharing a look of amusement, and Conan handed the lieutenant his orders to have Conan’s things moved from his old office to his new office. “I am the new acting CSO for Sector Five. These are your new orders. Please expedite them immediately.”

The Lieutenant, his name was Verulus, took the orders, read them, and snapped his feet together, standing at attention. [Yes, sir! I will get this completed as soon as possible.] He took off at the fastest speed he could without running.

After he left, we entered Conan’s new office. I couldn’t believe how large it was. His old office was a 4x4 meter box. One window, two chairs, but some nice simulator facilities at his disposal. This office was easily three times as big, with some couches for small conferences, and a large auxiliary office for large conferences.

The most impressive part of his office was the large transparent opening on the back behind his desk. It was easily four meters tall, with a dominating view of space. I knew from experience that the opening was shrouded by a magnetic containment field, but it was still a little frightening to walk into a room and see no obvious wall holding back the cold and vacuum of space.

“Okay, if I’m next in line for this office, I’ll take the promotion.”

Conan smacked me on the arm. “You gork! I’m never giving up this office.”

We walked around for a few minutes, gawking at the facilities he had at his disposal. He had an impressive user-interface hologram map for tactical and strategic planning, a small area with a full half-squad simulator setup, and, the crown jewel in my opinion, a small docking station with room for anything up to the size of a Venture Star-class shuttle or an SSCS. I expected the docking station, as Conan’s former office has something similar, but could only fit something up to the size of a Courier-class shuttle in it.

“Did you never come in here for conferences or meetings with Styx?”

Conan looked at me like I was retarded. “Did you ever see Styx outside of the hangar bay, Combat Ops, or Starfighter Ops? I wouldn’t be surprised to find out he didn’t even know the office was here.”

I snorted. That was actually pretty true. Admiral Jagged Styx was known around the fleet as The Man Who Never Sleeps, something that was literally true; Cerroneans as a species have naturally-occurring abilities, such as a reduced sleep requirement (4 hours per 27 hour day, the fleet standard), superhuman strength and agility (easily three times human standard), heightened intelligence (genius-level IQ is considered slightly below average), as well has heightened sensory perception (imagine being able to know where someone had been recently based on smell). But the firstborn children of firstborn children inherit a special power, usually related to the inborn talent of their ancestors, but sometimes different. Jagged Styx and his ancestors all have the talent of energy manipulation. Admiral Styx can, at will, shoot lightning out of his hands, charge a battery in about three seconds, make a laser fire at ten times its maximum rated power…he can control electricity. This ability has an odd quirk of negating the need for sleep in its user. However, those users do require regular periods of meditation…lest they have a psychotic breakdown. Such are the vagaries of superpowers.

  My superpowers have been decidedly hit-or-miss up till now. I have the standard empathy, telekinesis, and telepathy of a Cerronean firstborn, but slightly less potent than normal. I can probably lift half of what Rain can, and I have yet to learn complete control of my empathic and telepathic abilities. I have been told I should have a power not seen in the galaxy in over a thousand years: ability mimicry. Any power I witness, I can copy at will. This ability has only been gifted to four people in all of Cerronean history, and only exhibited by men of the Acheron line. According to the histories I have read, the ability makes the wielder the most powerful and formidable man in the universe.

This is my greatest fear, however. While I have never been prone to do evil, I remember the bloodlust that took over upon hearing that a DFIA starfighter had bombed my home on Earth and killed my wife and daughter-in-law. The rage that I had not felt since before my son was born. The red tinge that covered my eyesight…the heinous tortures I wanted to inflict on the pilot we captured…I fear I will lose control of myself at some point, and do things that cannot be undone, or forgiven.

This is the thought that haunts me most days. What could I do if gifted that kind of power, and the red takes me again? What horrors and atrocities could I commit with the ability to do anything? If my nightmares are half as bad as the possibilities, the suffering would be endless.

But I had to worry about that later. Right now, Conan and I had to come up with a plan to present to Eradicator.

I shook my head clear of the thoughts. “So…where the apaadi do we start?”

Conan looked exhausted all of a sudden. “You’re the tactician. You tell me.”

“Gorb. This is over my head, man. What we need is a plausible reason to pull so many ships to one location for a hit that isn’t anywhere near Adrona. We need a map.”

“Okay. Let me pull up the interface here.”

We moved over to the holographic map interface, and Conan put in a couple of commands.

As he did so, I felt a slight ringing in my ears, and a jubilant sensation in my head. It was a feeling I’d felt before. Oh, gorb, I thought. Another Cerronnean couple had just amalgamated. That was going to make this evening difficult.

A three-dimensional rendering of the galaxy popped up around us. The names of the various planets popped up with a real-time color coding. Planets that were free member-states of the United Republic were colored blue. Planets that were willing member-states of the Ionian Ascendancy were colored red. Uninhabited planets were colored navy blue for UR-controlled planets, and orange for IA-controlled planets. Planets that were members of one nation but controlled by the other were colored yellow for UR member-states, and sky blue for IA member-states. Planets that had populations that had been enslaved by the IA were colored brown. The uninhabited planets that the URSF used as sector bases were colored green, and the inhabited planets that had pre-technological or pre-FTL civilizations, or were just unaligned or neutral, were colored purple. Planets that were being actively contested were shown as well, colored white for planets that were being attacked by URSF forces, and gray for planets that were being attacked by the DFIA.

Looking at the map, two things jumped out at me. One, Adrona was pretty much alone on its end of the map, as far as legitimate or interesting targets of an invasion or attacking force. Maray and Atan were the only planets that were even relatively close by, and Maray was the only planet worth attacking. This meant our staging area would have to be outside of Sector Five. The second thing I noticed were the two yellow planets on this map.

“Bingo,” I muttered. The beginnings of  a plan started to come together in my mind. I pulled out my communicator and sent a text to the command officer currently on-duty in Starfighter Ops, requesting he instruct my squadron to meet for a debriefing in ten minutes, and a message to a friend in Fleet Security, asking him to do me a very large favor.

“What?”

“Look at the map, Connie. What do you see?”

He looked more closely. “Apparently not what you see. What’s up?”

“How many yellow names do you see up there?”

“Two,” he said, from reflex. Everyone knows the two planets that were lost to the IA. Connie was even there for the loss of Adrona. Then he looked again. “Whoa. Clear on the other side of the map. We stage from…probably Kimeran or Negan, make it look like we want Niko, or even start a rumor about knocking on Ionia’s door—“

“No. Here’s what we do. First, we start staging at Negan. It has to be Negan. And we do it immediately, like in the next few hours. That way, it looks like we are reinforcing after the hit there. Then we move our stage somewhere else…probably an empty system close to Negan. But before any of this can happen, we need to do two things. Right now, right this second, you need to go to Eradicator and ask her a question. Make sure you guys are alone, and in a secure area, and ask her this: ‘How long before the Big Boy is ready to leave?’ She will initially freak out, and ask how you came across this info. Just ask her again, and tell her Acheron needs to know. Get her answer, and come back here.”

Connie had been shaking his head and looking scared since I mentioned Eradicator. Now, he looked pale and shaken. “What the daz is that supposed to mean?”

My communicator buzzed, and I pulled it out and saw a confirmation that both requests had been carried out. “Trust me, I’ll explain later. But before we go very far into this plan, we need to know. I’m gonna go get Rain and Loran, and we are gonna go talk to a friend in the PsyOps department. Go now. I’ll meet you back here in an hour.”

“Xander, this is a fucked-up thing you’ve got going here. Give me something here.”

“They are making something at the Endpoint shipyards that will be a necessity for this operation. Now go.” I turned around and walked out the door.

*                         *                        *

As I rode the transport to the hangar section of the ship, my comm unit went off again. It was Lassister, informing me that the squadron was present and accounted for in the briefing room. I sent an acknowledgment and ETA of two minutes. The transport stopped at the correct bulkhead, and I rounded the corner for the Special Operations Squadron Briefing Theater. With Defiant Squadron being the only Spec Ops squadron aboard ship due to recent rotations, we were the only ones that used it.

I quietly opened the door, and slid into the room unnoticed, as I usually do. Lassister was at the front of the room, talking to Ensign Ermonac Ja’Dabaral, one of the newest nuggets in my squadron. He looked toward the door, saw me there, and shouted, “Commander on deck, ten-SHUN!”

Everyone in the room immediately stood and faced the front, feet together and eyes pointed at the wall at the front of the room, except for Lassister, who held the same pose, but stared at the wall behind the squad members.

I softly cleared my throat, so that Lassister would look at me, and when he did, I indicated my new rank insignia.

I did this for two reasons. One, I love to play jokes on people. This little joke on Lassister would irritate the shit out of him, and I like doing that as much as possible. Second, I have reasons to distrust Colonel Aein Lassister. I am seeing more and more evidence of a man who is either more concerned with promotions and ambition than doing his job, or a potential source of danger for me and my squadron. I really wanted to read his reaction to my promotion.

His face immediately took on a “what the gorb” look, then immediately I saw a twinkle in his eyes, like he had just been informed he had won a prize of some sort. Then his face became impassive, a military face. All this took about half a second, but the man could not control his internal emotions in any way, and I felt the sense of immediate anger, followed by a very profound sense of accomplishment, as though he were responsible for making me look good enough for a promotion.

He stood a little taller and said, “Correction: Admiral on deck!”

Although completely against protocol, all but two members of my squadron dropped the attention pose and looked straight at me. All of them had a look of pride and surprise on their faces, and the emotions I picked up were all gracious and excited. They were like family to me, every one of them, and I tried very hard to treat them all like family.

The two that didn’t turn and look were not exceptions to this rule, but my relationship with them was different. Lieutenant Colonel Rain Liberator did not look for one reason: he does not know how to break military protocol. He is as rigid as diamonds, and I love him like a brother. Other than Loran, he is the only member of the squadron that I actually share blood with.

The second is Lieutenant Janeel Dreamer. Dreamer is a Cerronean female, and quite possibly the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on. If she were not an officer in my squadron, I would probably have made an attempt to court her openly by now, but it is neither allowed, nor proper, for a commanding officer to have a relationship with one of his J.O.’s, or junior officers. Despite this fact, she and I shared a secret that bonded us much closer than family.

As I walked to the lectern, I felt scorn radiating off of two of the individuals in the room. Though I knew the answer already, I concentrated, letting the emotions wash over me so that I could discern the source.

The first was Ermonac Ja’Dabaral, and he was the only member of my squadron that didn’t earn his way in. He was a concern for me, for multiple resons. As an Ionian in the URSF, the scrutiny he faces regularly is enough to make 95% of those subjected to it want to throw in the towel. Those that do not give up are those with the resolve and courage of convictions found only in true believers of a cause. The only two causes that could apply in this context are the abolition of slavery…or the end of freedom. And, to me, Ja’Dabaral is not a good guy, and he has no love for me. His disdain for me was something I was aware of, so I was not surprised.

The second was Lassister. The man hates me, thinks me inferior to him. Though he was a fine pilot, I initially rejected him for inclusion. I was later forced to include him as my XO because of his relationship with War Admiral Zarner.  He has the same outlook and sensibilities as Zarner, and has not once shown a willingness to sacrifice anything for a fellow squadmate. Until recently I had no choice but to deal with it, but two days earlier a friend of mine in the medical corps informed me that during a routine checkup, she discovered a slight macular degeneration in his eyes. The next flight physical he has, scheduled in three weeks, would see him disqualified from further service as a starfighter pilot. He would still be qualified to fly shuttles and non-combat craft, but, if I know him at all, he will take a non-flying billet.

I shook those thoughts from my head and said, “Settle down, people. As you were.” They returned to their attention pose. I stepped behind the lectern at the front of the room and nodded at Lassister. “Thank you, Colonel. You may all be seated. This will be a short debrief. I’m sorry it took so long, but, as you can see, I had to go stare at my gorgeous visage in the mirror for a few hours and gawk at my star.”

Everyone laughed at that with the exception of Rain. In on-duty military situations, he could be the most boring man alive.

“Okay, abbreviated debrief. Good job out there today. We got in, got out, and didn’t get dead. Any questions?”

Loran said, “Sir, any news on the intel picked up from the Perch?”

I paused for a moment, trying to understand his question. I had been somewhere else for the previous four hours, and had forgotten all about almost dying seven hours ago. I recovered and said, “No news so far. 5F-2 is still going over that.” 5F-2 is the designation for Fifth Fleet Intelligence.

Lassister said, “So where were you for four hours?”

I closed my eyes for a moment, only so I could keep from retorting too rudely to my XO, but I had to say something to his borderline-disrespectful comment. “XO, I really don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

Lassister looked like I had slapped him and made rude comments about his mother. He cleared his throat and said, “My apologies. Can you tell us what’s happening? We usually don’t have to wait for four hours for a debrief, and we’re just curious.”

As much as I hated the man, he was quick. “I got promoted. That’s what happened, Colonel. In a few months, I will be taking over the CSO shop. For now, let’s just focus on what we’re doing now. Next?”

Ja’Dabaral said, “Sir, any word on where the DFIA fleet we encountered went?”

What an inappropriate question. The direction of the IA fleet’s escape is only important if they were on an outbound vector towards a planet that was under our protection. The fleet had fled towards Maray, which was in the opposite direction of any territory currently held by the United Republic.

Why would he ask that question? Unless he asked it specifically because it would obviously make him look like a plant, which would, in most people’s minds, disqualify him as a plant because an actual plant wouldn’t ask such an obviously stupid question…such convoluted, wheels-within-wheels thinking is why I shoot people instead of spy on them.

“No idea. Next?” I looked around for a moment. “No? Okay. Does anyone have any intelligence gathered from this engagement that they feel needs to be covered?” I looked around, getting blank looks and head shakes. “Excellent. I need Liberator, Acheron…and Dreamer to come with me. Everyone else, feel free to go off-duty for 36 hours. Dismissed.”

All stood to leave, except the three I pointed out, and Lassister.

        Lassister asked, “What’s up?”

        Everyone else was out of earshot, so I said, “I don’t recall inviting you to the meeting, XO. Feel free to leave at any time, preferably soonish.”

        The look on his face was priceless, but he didn’t give up so soon. “Sir, I am the squadron executive officer. If there is something in the works, planning, operations to work up, I need to be in the loop.”

        “You’re absolutely right, XO. And if that were the case, I would have invited you to stay. But this is a group of friends hanging out for a couple of hours, so get the gorb out of here. Dismissed!”

        I really hated to be so blatantly rude, but I needed him gone, and not getting suspicious for a while. I figured by pissing him off, he would need someone to go complain to, and that would free us up for an acceptable amount of time. He turned on his heel, and left. I decided I would talk to him about his disrespectful and insubordinate behavior (he didn’t stand at attention before turning to leave) later.

        Rain and Loran approached as he left. Loran said, “Good Lord, what crawled up his ass today?”

        Rain said, “He’s upset that your father didn’t walk in here and promote him on the spot. I could feel that much plainly.”

        I snorted. “Yeah, that’s what I figured. He’s just gonna have to go cry to someone else, because he is not getting my squadron.”

        Loran asked, “Who is?”

        “I don’t know, but you will be the executive officer.”

        Loran looked shocked. “What?”

        I smiled. “Not to make it sound like you haven’t earned it, but look around. I have two flight leaders, you and Lassister. I can’t give it to Rain, because he would say no.” Rain nodded. “That leaves you. And besides, you have earned it. You’ve shown time and again that you are ready for a bigger leadership role. Lassister’s going to be reassigned in three weeks, and at that point, I will announce you as executive officer, although not second in command. That’ll be Rain’s.”

        Rain nodded. He would accept whatever I asked of him. But Loran just looked shocked. Dreamer had the good sense to stay back and keep her mouth shut, as this discussion did not pertain to her.

        “That being said, we need to go see Conan. We’ve got some planning to do.”

*                        *                        *

        We got back to the Sector CSO offices rather quickly. As we walked up, Conan’s new lieutenant said, “Go on in, sirs. They are waiting for you.”
        I stopped walking. “They?” I had an immediate sinking feeling as to who “they” were, but was hoping otherwise.

        “Admiral Conation and Grand Admiral Eradicator. They are expecting you.”

        I stifled the string of curses that came to mind, and said, “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

        We walked into the office, and sure enough, Conan and Eradicator were standing there, chatting over the planning table. They both turned on our entry. All four of us approached and stood at attention.

        “Admiral. I didn’t realize that you would be joining us for this.”

        “Would you three please step outside? I need to have a word with Vice Admiral Acheron.”

        His full use of my title immediately made their heads turn, but they left without protest.

        As soon as the door had shut, Eradicator looked at me and calmly asked, “How do you know about Project Triton?”

        I kept my face impassive and stared at the wall. “I would rather not say, sir.”

        Project Triton was a shipbuilding project taking place currently at the hidden shipyards at Endpoint. The ship that was being built was designed by a team of engineers and scientists under the direction of the late Supreme Commander Proteus himself. They were making the largest ship ever constructed. She would sport eight times the firepower of Palamecia, our most powerful ship. She would also incorporate several new innovations that were currently only on the most recent ships coming out of overhaul. She would, in short, be a fleet unto herself. There were three currently under construction, but the first, currently slated to be dubbed the Triton, was the only one near completion. “The Big Boy” is what Supreme Commander Proteus called it when he told me about it.

        Eradicator began to feel very angry, but he covered it well. Calmly, he said, “Am I going to have to order you to tell me, Vice Admiral Acheron?”

        “That won’t be necessary, sir, as I will simply disobey that order.”

        Now his anger showed through quite plainly. “EXCUSE ME?!”

        “Sir, will it make you feel any better to know that I was ordered not to discuss this with anyone?”

        Eradicator looked even angrier than before. Now he was speaking in a disappointed father voice. “And does this person outrank me?”

        “Yes.”

        This surprised Eradicator. He looked and felt confused for a moment, but then I saw realization in his eyes. He knew of only one person that outranked him in my eyes.

        He nodded. “Okay, I will take you at your word and let this go.”

        I felt Conan nearly die from shock at the Grand Admiral’s quick change of attitude.

        Eradicator said, “Who did you bring with you, and why?”

        I cleared my throat and said, “Sir, I brought my planning staff with me.”

        He looked puzzled. “I recognize Liberator and your son, but who was the woman?”

        Out of my peripheral vision I saw Conan turn around and look at the planning table, his face turning red. I had confided my growing affection of Lieutenant Dreamer to him, and he said I should avoid all contact with her to avoid temptation. It was a smart idea, but I don’t have that kind of self-control.

        “Sir, that is Lieutenant Dreamer. She is probably going to be a flight lead when I leave, and I wanted her to get in on the planning stages as soon as possible.”

        Eradicator could smell the dogey coming out of my mouth from a mile away, but he let it go. “Okay, get them in here.”

        I just stood there calmly, thinking get in here as loud and clearly as I could. Eradicator looked confused, until the door opened and all three entered.

        Goddamn, telepathy just seems more and more useful every day.

        I could tell the thought was Eradicator’s, but it made me jump like I’d grabbed a live electrical wire. That was the second time in less than two hours that I’d lost control of my abilities to the point that I was picking up stray thoughts. I berated myself briefly, then just started talking.

        “Sir, I believe I can give you strategic surprise, and maybe even tactical surprise, for the raid you asked us to plan. We have not gotten the specifics down completely, but we have a preliminary plan ready now.”

        Eradicator looked surprised. “That’s funny. Conation seems to be under the impression that you have a plan, and that he contributed nothing to it.”

        Gorking Connie, I thought. Selling me out like a kurk.

        “Sir, that is more true than not, but I couldn’t possibly have done this without Admiral Conation. He pushed the buttons on the map interface.”

        Eradicator smiled, while everyone else in the room offered failing attempts to stifle their laughter. Eradicator offered them sympathetic looks, to let them know he was not offended by their reactions.

        When the laughter died, he asked, “How much have you told your subordinates?”

        “Absolutely nothing.”

        Eradicator smiled again. “I see your delegation skills mirror my own.” He looked at the other three. “I would like to avoid this question, but: what are your individual intelligence clearances?”

        Intelligence had several levels of clearance for information. They started at CON-1, for information rated Confidential Level 1. Confidential has ten levels, then Most Secret, which also has ten levels, and then Top Secret, which officially has ten, but in reality has fifteen. The information they were about to see was so secret it was rated TS-15, which was technically illegal, but there were special rules for “black” information, information that, officially or unofficially, does not exist.

        Rain said, “TS-9.”  

        Loran said, “TS-7.”

        Janeel said, “Uh…TS-1.”

        Eradicator was about to ask her to leave the room, when I said, “Actually, Lieutenant, I believe your classification level is currently TS-5.”

        Janeel looked shocked. “It is?”

        “Yes, it is. Is that high enough for this, sir?”

        Eradicator looked more annoyed than I’d ever seen him. “I suppose, as long as you and Colonel Liberator can vouch for her…upgrade.”

        Eradicator had seen right through my play, just as I had assumed he would. I looked at Rain, and thought as loudly as I could, go with it, please.

        Rain looked at me and nodded.

“Yes sir, we both vouch for her.”

Eradicator glared at me for a moment, and said, “All right. Command has decided that we are going to take back Adrona. That operation will commence as soon as we are prepared for it.”

“According to my plan, sir, about six weeks.”

Eradicator looked stunned. “Six weeks. The best plan that Command has come up with required more than six months.”

“They didn’t ask me, sir.”

Eradicator shook his head. “Well let’s hope your plan is half as smart as your mouth seems to be today.”

“Sir, may I speak plainly?”

Eradicator sighed. “I suppose for the duration of this planning session we should precede no décor.”

“No décor” was military parlance for discarding the rules of decorum. This mean we didn’t have to call anyone by their title, or “sir,” and we could just talk like a room full of guys. Well, and Janeel.

“Understood. Connie, turn the map on.” Conan walked over to the map and turned it on. “Sir, when you look at this map, what’s the first thing you notice about Adrona’s location?”

Eradicator studied the map for a moment, “As far as viable targets are concerned, it’s pretty much by itself.”

“Exactly. And how many other yellow planets do you see?”

Eradicator’s answer came reflexively, “One.” Then he looked at it a little closer. “You son of a bitch.”

Conan looked around and said, “What am I missing here?”

Eradicator looked at him. “What’s the name of the other yellow planet?”

“Niko.”

Eradicator’s voice took on a touch of awe. “And what is so important about Niko that they put up a wall that we could never penetrate without a major engagement?”

Realization dawned. “The Fountain of Promises.”

I nodded. “Exactly. So all we have to do is find a verifiable spy, start the rumor that we are trying to get on to Niko, give them time to draw forces to that point, and then kick their pire’s off of Adrona.”

Conan and the rest of the room looked stunned, except for Eradicator, who looked proud. “That’s gorbing brilliant.”

“Wait a minute, you haven’t heard the whole thing.”

“Well, go on then,” Eradicator said.

“We have to, within the next day or two, start moving fleets from every sector to Negan, covered as reinforcements after the attack. From there, we will stage our ‘invasion of Niko.’ Over the course of a couple of weeks we will start drawing as many personnel from those fleets as we can get away with without compromising their combat capabilities. We will use these personnel to populate the Big Boy.”

At this point, both Loran and Janeel spoke at the same time, “What’s the ‘Big Boy’?”

I looked at Eradicator “Will you clear them for this?”

Eradicator looked thoughtful for a moment, then he shrugged his shoulders. “The hell with it. The ‘Big Boy’ he is referring to is part of a secret project taking place at Endpoint. It is the largest ship ever constructed, and is the equal of at least a task force. Imagine one ship with enough firepower and fighter squadrons to take on eight Palamecias.”

“Holy sh...God,” Loran said, to the amusement of Eradicator.

Eradicator looked at me “Your pilots understand what ‘no décor’ means, right?”

I snorted. “Did you make a habit out of cursing in front of Grand Admirals as an N-7?”

“I see your point.” He turned to my subordinates. “For future reference, I came up as a pilot. I can throw out curse words with the best of them, and I doubt you’ll come up with anything that will offend my sensibilities. When we are ‘no décor,’ say what you gorbing mean. Understood?”

“Yes, sir!” all three of them answered, but Loran and Janeel looked very pale.

Eradicator looked at me. “How much were you told about the Big Boy?”

“Mainly just that it existed, and some particulars about its size. If you’re asking if I know the specific personnel requirements for the ship, I do not.”

“Full crew complement for the Big Boy is going to be, conservatively, 65,000.”

I nodded. “I was thinking more like 70 but, I figured it’d be somewhere around there. What if we don’t include the maid service and bean counters?”

Eradicator snorted. He knew I was asking for the minimum war time crew complement. “For full combat capability, the best estimate I’ve seen is 40.”

“Balls,” I paused. “That’s gonna put a small crimp in my plan.”

Conan spoke up, “How do you figure?”

“You know where we can find 40,000 people with the training and experience to crew a ship like that?”

“Well, obviously we’ll have to shuffle some people around, but 40,000 shouldn’t be that hard to come up with.”

I sighed, “Connie, any idea what kind of security issues we are looking at by moving that many people off that many ships at one time?”

“Then we put the fleet at EmCon 1 for the duration.”

I thought about that for a second. EmCon, or Emission Control was a fleet protocol that controlled communications to and from ships throughout the fleet.  EmCon 5 is the lowest setting and that has very few restrictions on the communications. EmCon 1 on the other hand, is a virtual communications blackout. Only emergency signals are sent and courier drones are used for regular communications throughout the fleet.

I looked at Eradicator, “How many ships do you think we will have to pull from to get our 40,000?”

“Well, if we implement your plan as-is, I’ll probably call in Task Force 2 and 4 from each sector. That will give us 16 carriers and about 200 other ships to mess with. But I think you boys are getting ahead of yourselves.”

“What do you mean?”

Eradicator shook his head. “Do you really think I wouldn’t have men standing by ready to populate that ship?”

I was confused. “You mean you have 65,000 people sitting around waiting for that ship to get done?”

“Well, obviously not 65,000, but I’ve got a shakedown crew of about 25,000 ready to take a run next week.”

“Wait a second. You’re still Commander, Fifth Fleet, right?”

“Obviously.”

“Why doesn’t this project fall under the purview of Sector Two Command or the Master Shipwright or whichever random company got the contract?”

Eradicator gave me a mock-offended look. “Are you saying you don’t think I’m qualified for this? Do I not have your approval, oh giver of assignments?”

I snorted and gave him a look. “Don’t be a daz.” Eradicator grinned at me smugly. “It’s not what I meant. Realistically, you have no easily definable right to be anywhere near this. Why is it yours?”

“Because the Supreme Commander handed it off to me.”

I nodded. That made sense. Proteus had a tendency to give the big assignments to those he felt he could trust.

Eradicator said, “Now that we’ve settled that, what’s our plan of attack for Adrona?”

I turned and looked at my subordinates, “You guys plan to contribute? Or are you just here for the food?”

Janeel looked around. “There’s food?” Several of us laughed.

Rain looked at me and Eradicator and said, “Should we go for subtle or obvious on this one?”

Loran frowned. “How do you do subtle with eight separate task forces and the largest ship ever constructed?”

Rain smiled, “That’s easy. Throw the big ship right in their face, and then jump the rest of the fleet behind them while they engage.”

Eradicator smiled. “That’s pretty damn sneaky for a Cerronean.”

“Cerroneans are sneaky all the time. You just never notice it.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sneaky or not, that’s not exactly subtle. That’s more obvious with some surprise thrown in.”

Janeel nodded. “Unless it is timed perfectly, the first ship is going to take a nasty beating. That doesn’t sound good.”

Rain nodded. “I wasn’t really advocating that plan. I was just answering the question. Which, by the way, no one answered my question. Obvious or subtle?”

Eradicator answered. “Let’s come up with a plan for both. We can split up into teams. Conan, you take Xander and Dreamer and go subtle, and I’ll take Loran and Sneaky Boy and go obvious.”

We walked to the other side of the room, and sat at Conan’s meeting table.

“Stealth bombers.”

I looked at Janeel, who had just blurted the first thing I was gonna say. Damn, this girl was smart. “Is that a new expletive you kids are saying nowadays?”

She gave me an amused look. “No, we should send in stealth bombers a few hours beforehand. Place them at strategic locations, like the shield generators for the orbital base, or on top of capital ships and such.”

I looked thoughtful. “That would require some very tricky flying, and some precise coordination, all without the use of comms. We would have to use a Cerronean coordinator for that. Or…” I trailed off, a new thought occurring to me.

Conan interrupted my thoughts. “Isn’t that what Ghost Group was made for?”

I nodded, as Conan said what I was thinking. Ghost Group was a team of all-arounders. Pilots, commandos, tacticians, scientists…every one of them was in the top 1% in every category. Ghost Group could fly anything in the fleet, could take on enemies on the ground, at sea, in the air, in space…they were our absolute best. A majority of them were Cerroneans, but that’s what happens when you’re just naturally smarter than everyone else. What’s better, all Cerroneans could communicate via thought and feeling, which would be a must-have in this scenario.

“Ghost Group. We put them in as many Stilettos as we can manage, and we place them at strategic points that we will determine later. Then, we jump a recon drone in for a quick intel dump, bring it back, do a quick-and-dirty analysis of ship positions and such, and move in from there. As soon as the main fleet enters the system, Ghost Group is weapons free. That should give us a significant tactical advantage.”

Stilettos, or Stiletto-class fighter/bombers, were the only full-stealth capable fighter craft in the URSF inventory. All of our craft are stealthy, to a point, but Stilettos are literally undetectable to all forms of sensors and detectors. Even to nearly all forms of eyesight. When in combat mode, they emit no electronic signature. Their inner hull is a special material that negates any electronic signals from leaking. Since a shield would give them away to sensors, their outer hull is the densest alloy ever constructed, called tiitadium. It can withstand several shots even from the main gun cannon on Ascendancy ships. They are equipped with shields, but those are only turned on after the stealth function is compromised, and all Stiletto pilots have standing orders to bug out if shields are required. They burn a special fuel that gives off no chemical or heat signature, as their engines basically use solar wind to propel themselves. They have normal weapons when necessary, but usually they drop a special kind of bomb that is launched only with magnetic force, which is not detectable by Ascendancy sensors. Almost like a projectile, they shoot in a general direction and, when necessary, make adjustments to course and speed. Stilettos are rarely used because they are not called for very often. DFIA sensor capabilities are bad enough that partial stealth is usually good enough.

I looked at Conan. “Any holes in that plan?”

He shrugged. “Not really.”

I looked at Janeel. “You?”

She smiled faintly. “Do I have holes?”

It was the twinkle in her eye that nearly made me choke to death. I tried to cover it, but Conan noticed. I felt his sudden burst of emotion, a mix of happiness and severe irritation, and a profound sense of shame that made me want to cry. He knew now that there was something going on between me and a Lieutenant in my squadron, and he was ashamed of me.

I cleared my throat. “No, do you see any holes in the plan we just came up with?”

She had the gall to look surprised. “Oh! No, not that I see.”

I gave her an admonishing look, and looked over at Eradicator’s group. They were flipping a coin. Loran held it where they could see it, and Eradicator clapped Rain on the back and pocketed the coin.

“Better luck next time, Colonel!”

Rain just looked sullen. Apparently he had lost.

Eradicator looked over at us, and said, “You guys got anything yet? We’re all done here.”

I nodded. “Yeah. You wanna hear ours first?”

He nodded. “Yes. Spill it.”

I outlined the plan that we had just come up with. Send in Ghost Group with Stilettos, grab their recon dump, and jump in after the strategic targets were down.

Eradicator nodded. “A good plan. Excellent job, Admiral.”

I was confused. “Wait. Aren’t you going to tell us your plan?”

All three looked at each other and laughed.

Eradicator said, “My plan was to get you guys to come up with the plan, while I snookered Liberator out of 50 credits with a coin flip. Worked perfectly.”

Conan laughed hysterically, while Janeel just looked shocked. It wasn’t every day that you learned that a Grand Admiral still had a sense of humor.

I just put my hand on my face and laughed silently. Eradicator’s sense of humor always simultaneously puzzled and amused me. On the Bridge, or in COC, Grand Admiral Eradicator was like a god, benevolent and feared. Always a compassionate and caring commander, but a humorless bastard at most times. Flag Officers have to be that way. Nothing breaks down discipline faster than finding out your CO is a jokester, or won’t punish you for breaking the rules. How he kept up the façade of a Grand Admiral constantly eluded me. But in private, he was one of the funniest and quirkest bastards I’ve ever met. I can’t imagine ever having a better commander.

I looked at Rain. “Did you call number again?”

He just nodded. United Republic currency consisted of coins, the front side called face because they were adorned with the faces of people granted the title of Hero of the Republic, the back side called number because it was embossed with the numeric value of the currency. All coins were much heavier on the front, which caused them to be statistically more likely to land with the face side up. Inexplicably, Rain always called number.

“You’re gonna have to cut that out.”  

He nodded again. “He just looks like he needed it worse than I do.”

Eradicator gave Rain a cold look. “Sorry I didn’t get raised with a laranium spoon up my pire, rich boy.”

Rain shrugged and tried to keep a straight face. “Remember that the next time you eat at a Cerronean noble’s house. We use the laranium cutlery for guests.”

Eradicator laughed, then suddenly looked at his timedial. “Daz. I have to go. I have guests coming in twenty minutes.”

I looked at my dial. It was 2640. Third Watch wasn’t even halfway over. This was a highly irregular time of night to be receiving visitors.

I asked, “Visitors? VIP’s or something?”

I was surprised to feel a sudden burst of embarrassment from the admiral. “No, a couple of Manpower people from Sixth Fleet are stopping by for a discussion about what we can do for them.”

Eradicator was lying. With or without empathic talents, that much would have been obvious to anyone as familiar with him as I was. Conan suddenly felt very confused, and I was sure he saw it, too. Rain felt apprehensive, as he had figured out that a lie was being told, as well. The problem wasn’t the lie; commanders are not required to share every detail of their lives with those under their command. The embarrassment was what threw me off. Eradicator had no reason to be embarrassed about not fully explaining his every action to two senior officers and three mid-to-junior level officers under his command, unless he was hiding something.

 I filed that under “things to worry about later,” and said, “Okay. Then you better get going. Sir.” I snapped to attention, and the others followed suit.

Eradicator did as well, and said, “At ease. You guys have a good night.” He turned, and left.

I turned to Rain and said, “So…I feel like getting a drink. You young people are welcome to join.” Then I looked at Conan. “And you elderly folk can come, too.”