Fleet Action (wc-3) William Forstchen (fox in socks read aloud .txt) 📖

watch inside the Confederation as to any actions which might indicate that they know something or are planning some action."

"So far we have detected absolutely none."

"There is never an absolute in war, the friction of war always causes a breakdown. You have your orders, now leave me."

The admiral backed out of the room,

Prince Thrakhath settled back down at his desk and then turned to look out the small oval window. In the darkness of space beyond he could see a long sliver of reflected light. Craxha, the third of the new carriers to have just completed its first transjump engine testing, was coming back in to dock. Tomorrow the first squadron of fighters, transferred from one of the now drydocked carriers would start to come aboard.

The ship turned slowly, lining up on the drydock pylon which jutted out from the massive orbital base. He sat quietly, watching the maneuver intently.

Docking a ship of such massive size was a difficult maneuver and the commander on board performed it flawlessly.

Good, he had chosen that one well.

He turned away and looked back at his commscreen, intently studying the latest intelligence report provided by the hrai spies of the Imperial family.

It wasn't good.

He closed his eyes, silently cursing the Baron. There was no denying that the initial plan of the Baron, to have a temporary armistice, was indeed a good one, no matter how humiliating it might be. Later, once things were finished, the blame for the humiliation could be shifted back to the Baron and away from the shoulders of the Imperial line.

It was the inner intent of the Baron which was disturbing. Already he was trying to marshal support from the other clans against the Imperial blood, while quietly working to extend the armistice far out beyond the original intent. It was obvious now that the true intent was to let the armistice continue, place the ultimate blame on the Emperor, and then somehow seize power himself. When that was accomplished this new fleet would fall into his hands, he would overawe the humans with it and thus secure victory and his own control of the throne.

The alternative, the Prince realized, was to preemptively strike on the humans right now. But the problem was that the fleet was not yet ready for that. It would be at least another six eights of days before the fourth carrier came on line. All battle simulations had shown that the full strength of twelve carriers was needed for an overwhelming victory. Beyond that, the twelve carriers would need more than forty eighties of fighters and. more importantly, trained pilots, for them to be useful. So far he had drawn pilots only from those hrai truly loyal to the throne. That was the difficult part of the equation. Far too many of the Imperial Guard pilots had been lost at Vukar, and it would be at least another year before their losses were made good.

If he delayed, his military strength would grow, and the humans would weaken, lulled by the false peace. That they would be so stupid had caused him to lose whatever respect he had once held for them as foes worthy of the testing of steel.

There was the chance as well that some in the Confederation military might try to get the hard evidence regarding the new fleet and its intended target. That they even had suspicion of its existence had been a blow, the information revealed by their all so foolish traitor.

Turning her had been so easy, he thought with a cold smile. Her only son had been captured during the Third Enigma campaign. That was a prize to be sure. Her discontent with the war, and her political ambitions to replace the president were known. The discreet passing of a holo of her son alive, and in confinement had broken her will. To have a Foreign Minister of the enemy working for you was indeed a great thing. She had been promised much and if, when the Confederation was destroyed and she was still useful, they would keep her as a puppet. The only problem with her was that it appeared that she was under suspicion and thus blocked from certain key information, especially regarding the reports of a Confederation secret project to build a new class of weapons. That was a concern as well, for if their side delayed, they might reach their goal and shift the balance of the war. It was another argument against delay, even though every passing day made the Confederation weaker and the Empire stronger.

Yet if he delayed, the discontent in the Empire at the humiliation of peace would grow as well, and be focused upon the Emperor by the maneuvering of the Baron.

It was a balancing act which had to be played out delicately, and he sat in the silence of his war room, lights dimmed, and quietly formed his plans.

Prince Thrakhath returned to his desk and settled back down, punching up the latest reports on his screen. From the ambassador all was still going well. The Confederation government was starting to protest more loudly about the endless minor violations of the truce.

"Look, it's all perfectly legal, you've got the papers, the titles are transferred, now get off this bridge," Jason snapped.

The lieutenant looked down again at the sheaf of paper in his hand and back up at Jason.

"Ah, Mr. Bondarevsky, I've been ordered to have you wait until the peace commission has fully reviewed this matter. You and your people are to leave this ship at once."

Jason turned away and punched into a ship comm line.

"Gloria, how's reactor?"

"Up and cooking, sir."

"Masumi, we on line yet with pulse engines?"

"Can give you maneuvering thrust."

Jason looked back at the lieutenant.

"Mister, if you don't want to go for this ride, you'd better clear the bridge."

The lieutenant looked at him and a thin smile crossed his features.

"Good luck, sir," he whispered, snapped off a salute, and left the bridge.

Jason went over to his old command chair, and sat