Prologue
“Sir, I have an unauthorized contact inbound.”
Captain Devers took a slow, deliberate sip of his tea, then carefully set it down. “Show me.”
The three-dimensional display in the center of the control room froze for a moment, then shifted, zooming in on a single yellow dot.
“No friends?”
“Negative, sir. She’s all alone.”
“Make?”
“Signature is consistent with Union Cruiser-class.”
Devers sighed and glanced at his XO, who joined him at the huge display.
The Cube, as the bridge crew had taken to calling the display, was a new and unwelcome addition to the already cramped combat bridge of the ESS Xander. The enormous projection had been hastily thrown together soon after they arrived at the Corridor. One just like it was installed in every Empire ship in the operation.
There were more than 4,000 ships at the Great Corridor, representing a dozen galactic powers. More were showing up every day.
It was the largest such gathering in human history, as far as anyone knew, and certainly since the armistice signings following the first of the Passage Wars, which had happened so long ago it barely counted.
The Cube was never turned off. The dots crawled nonstop, mimicking the constant hustling all around the Xander. At least four temporary space stations were under construction, and just about everyone was working on mounting their own expedition into the Great Corridor, all—bar none—scared stiff about what might come out of it, not to mention keeping an eye on everyone else.
“Maybe today,” said his XO, nodding at the tangled mess.
“Maybe.” It was a running joke between them. The whole thing was going to go to shit. It was just a matter of when.
“How long until we get a confirmation on that?”
“We should have drone eyes from the Alberta in 30 seconds.”
Alberta was the designation of the Empire’s new space station. It was no more than ten percent complete, but defensive drones were among the first things installed and operational. That and the ansible antenna allowing for real-time transmissions directly to the Triumvirate Fleet Command on the Emperor’s Moon.
Devers still didn’t understand how that was possible, but was under the impression it was a major breakthrough, if the way the entire project was built on need-to-know dossiers was any indication.
The Empire was suddenly flush with such breakthroughs. Their new diamond plasma torpedoes were capable of shredding an entire starship with one shot. They were poised to reshape the battlefield across every major war the Empire was currently waging: more than two dozen, if you didn’t count the technical armistices with the Cardinal Order, and you could bet the Empire wouldn’t be honoring those.
“We shouldn’t be hosting intergalactic science projects,” Devers spat.
If it weren’t for the events at the Great Corridor, Devers fully expected to be on the Red Front. With the weapons they had now, they’d be pushing toward Old Earth with renewed vigor.
“Which war would you prefer?” his XO asked, as if she’d read his mind.
She didn’t look at him, but Devers rolled his eyes anyway. “You’re too much machine sometimes, Anka.” When the cyborg said nothing, he continued, “The Red Front.”
She grunted.
The Red Front. The fight with the Cardinal Order was older than anyone on the Xander. Older than the Xander herself.
Devers sighed. His XO wasn’t wrong. They also had an action that was rapidly escalating towards war with the Asiatic Rings, and the war with the Alliance was simmering, even if both sides had stepped back to lick their wounds. The Empire was struggling to keep ships afloat. The Xander had a year-long backorder of parts that was only growing.
But these weapons could change everything! Devers hadn’t imagined he’d see a free Old Earth in his lifetime, but if the Cardinal Order couldn’t get something to counter the Empire fast, they were going to be toast.
Devers put it out of his mind. Those old grudges would have to wait. For now, his new toys only meant that his neighbors watched him a little more warily than before. But no one was giving an inch. Their scientists were desperately trying to replicate the Empire weapons, and their spies were desperately trying to burrow under the Empire armor to get something back. There had been a remarkable uptick in coliseum executions of late.
“Meanwhile,” said his XO, nodding at the Cube. Her prosthetic eyes glowed green.
Devers wasn’t actually convinced she was more machine than woman… but it was close. Then again, he wasn’t complaining. Having a cyborg as an XO had its perks. For one, she was cool as space under pressure.
Devers considered the Cube again. He didn’t need the Empire’s fancy new real-time messaging to HQ to know how this was going to go.
It was the Union. Of course it was. The Union of Merchant Settlements had been among the most vocal of the hundreds of minor powers left out of the most recent treaty. Probably because everybody had invaded their space and parked right off their home world without asking or apologizing, and then proceeded to completely ignore them.
The treaty was a real piece of work. After a skirmish between Alliance and Asiatic Ring fighters had escalated into a major incident that resulted in heavy damage to one of the Asiatic Cutlass-class starships, a hastily organized treaty had been hashed out by delegates of the Big Six powers and shoved down everyone else’s throat at gunpoint.
Effective immediately, no one was allowed to crash the party. If you had a seat at the table, you were in. Otherwise, you were out of luck.
Devers knew that was inviting trouble, and here it was.
“Course?”
“They’re heading for an intercept with the alert team,” said the senior tracking tech.
Devers frowned. “Time, STT?”
“Two minutes. They just showed up out of nowhere, sir.”
“Did we get a transition signature?” It wouldn’t make sense that they’d see the telltale signs of a near-FTL jump, since the Union ships were coming from right next door, but still. He couldn’t think of another explanation. No Union ship could make that kind of time in regular speed.
“Negative, sir.”
The comm chief leapt in. “Alpha one is requesting a firing directive.”
Devers glanced at his XO.
She just shook her head.
Devers agreed. “Go for defensive, CC, but negative on firing directive.”
Devers had been a stick jockey in another life, and it made him sick to leave his guys out there so vulnerable. But there was little he could do. The treaty was clear, and the Senate was losing its mind with restrictions on the rules of engagement since the incident at the Corridor.
Besides, he felt sure the Union was just trying its damnedest to create a shitstorm. He wasn’t going to oblige them.
“Get an acknowledgement from Alpha one, please.”
The bridge was silent for one beat. Two beats. Someone coughed.
“It’s been acknowledged,” said the CC.
“Where are we on that alien handshake?” Devers asked.
“Last I heard, it was still a go,” his XO responded.
This morning’s excitement had started with a collision between freighters from the Cardinal Order that were shuttling over modelers for the massive space station they were building. Several freight boxes had gone loose. They had drones on board to redirect them, but for some reason this one box didn’t, and it had floated free into Empire territory. The Order had gotten permission to follow, but the whole thing had everyone on edge.
Devers had scrambled his alert fighters, just to keep the Order on the up and up.
The Order had, of course, obliged by sending out a full squadron of their own fighters to supervise.
But things had gotten much more interesting this afternoon.
“What did they call themselves again? Simpar? Shempar?”
“Shemwar, sir,” said the CC. “Catalogued as EUS-23.”
Another Extra-Universal Species had shown up at the corridor. The twenty-third, it would seem.
Those were just the ones they knew of. The Corridor had been open for some time before the first humans had arrived here, and longer still until there was anything resembling some organization and cooperation.
There was also the slightest whiff in some circles that somebody from their side had gone through. In fact, most money was on the Empire—and all the new weapons they were swinging around didn’t dissuade anyone of that opinion. Certainly, that was the opinion of the other ship captains, if the scuttlebutt Devers was hearing was any indication.
“Our new besties,” observed his XO.
“So it would seem.”
There was a procedure of sorts, now, for welcoming aliens who ventured through the Corridor: Welcome to our universe, have some bureaucratic bullshit.
The diplomats had created a tedious system by which a recorded session of communication had to be broadcast to all the founding powers first. Then it got really tedious. By the time it was all over, Devers wouldn’t have blamed the aliens if they’d just given up and headed back home.
These aliens’ ships didn’t look much more impressive than the freight boxes they had spent the morning chasing after, but hey, you gotta take the alien species you get, right?
Besides, these aliens were unique.
“These are the ones here to save us, eh?” Devers asked.
His XO nodded. “So it would appear.”
This was the first time in those twenty-two previous contacts that any spacefaring sentient race from the other side had ever asked for anyone by name. The fact it was the Empire only raised suspicions among the others.
Well, fuck them, thought Devers. It had been too long since the Empire had been kicking a little ass.
Of course, the other powers didn’t know the substance of the message they’d received. Just seven cryptic little words: “Empire, we are here to save you.”
That was some thirty-six hours ago, shortly after they’d first appeared. Since then, they had been put through the standard bureaucratic pathway. Fleet Command didn’t want to raise suspicions.
Good luck with that. The message put everyone on edge. Just what they needed in this high pressure—
His XO’s gaze snapped to the Cube, her prosthetic eye doing a fast readjustment. She didn’t do double-takes for no reason.
The STT spoke hesitantly. “Sir, the Union contact…”
Devers waited. His crew were some of the best in the business.
“It’s… It’s gone, sir.”
“Where?”
“Right as it was approaching Alpha, it just disappeared.”
Devers strode over behind the officer. “Show me.”
The STT ran back the ranging signal.
“There,” said Devers. “There, can you enhance that?”
“I can try, but—”
He stopped. Now they could see it. The contact hadn’t disappeared. It had broken up.
“Mechanical failure?”
His XO spoke over his shoulder. “That’s no explosion. Those are perfectly symmetrical lines.”
“Well, what the hell, then—”
“Sir!” CC broke in, hand to his ear. “Alpha one reports the squadron just got buzzed by Marine Super Comets.” He swiveled. “It’s Frontier Marines. At least a dozen.”
Devers felt like he’d taken a pulse to the gut.
“That explains the speed,” the XO said, unfazed.
“They’re ours?” Devers asked, stunned. He racked his brain. Had there been anything—anything at all about Frontier Marine activity today? “Can we establish contact?”
“Negative, channels aren’t open,” said the CC. He hesitated. “Alpha requesting orders.”
Devers ignored him.
“What’s the new course?” Devers asked the STT.
“Negative course change.”
So, thought Devers, these Marines aren’t heading for the alert fighters or the aliens they were meeting. “Well then, where are they going?”
“Right for the Corridor, sir,” replied the STT, not glancing up from his ranging scope. “They’ll come within three klicks of our current position.”
Close enough to wave out the window.
“Time to closest approach?” Devers snapped.
“Four minutes, sir. They’re pushing hard.”
Devers turned to his XO. “Did I miss a communique? This doesn’t make any damn sense.”
“Sir,” said the space warfare tech, flagging down Devers.
“Say it, Krieger.”
“I think I know why we didn’t see them. The Frontier Marines have stealth builds. And if they specifically targeted our zone—”
“—we wouldn’t see anything,” Devers finished. They scanned for everyone else in stealth mode, but not their own.
“If that’s true…” his XO said, leaving her statement hanging in the air.
Something flashed on the STT’s screen.
The Cube view shifted to highlight the change in the matrix. A large green dot disappeared.
“I’ve lost the Cambridge, sir!”
“Alpha reports visual detonation,” the CC said in the same breath.
“Get those alpha fighters back here,” Devers snapped. “Launch bravo alert fighters and get the rest of the alert squads on deck. Arm our defensive batteries. STT, if they deviate one meter, I want to hear about it.”
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