Chapter 1 Emptiness

The civil war of 3 B.I. was by far the oddest ever fought in the history of humanity.

While fratricidal wars were usually bloody messes, full of cruelty, this war, later called the Founding War, was fought with unprecedented vigor but with impressively few casualties.

Both sides were extremely careful neither to lose ships nor to destroy enemy ships, since everyone knew the real enemy was speeding toward Sol. And it was just a matter of time until the Batract invasion fleet arrived.

No matter what defenses Sol had for such a contingency, no matter whose side a captain was on, everyone knew Sol would need every ship, every missile and every man to fight side by side. Otherwise, humanity’s fate would be a dark one.

— Excerpt from On the Founding War , Nivil Rubcon, 401 P.I.

The alarm bells in the central connector rang. Three short rings: course corrections and counterburn alarm.

Captain Botha checked his seatbelts out of habit. Around him, his small bridge crew did the same, mechanically grabbing every clip to check if it was closed.

We’re like Pavlov’s dogs. But instead of salivating, we check the belts at the ring of a bell. Even while sleeping.

He looked up at the counter on top of the small screen at the front of the bridge. Thirty seconds.

The tape above the counter still stung a bit. Instead of the usual CA X04 – ASN Helios , the ASN was now taped over, first with the ridiculous GDF, and recently with the TDF.

No one was willing to remove the ASN. Everyone knew, hoped, that the conflict would soon be over and everything would go back to normal.

As soon as the ASN was cleaned of its military junta.

Five seconds before the counterburn, the bell rang again: one short ring. Like the other three officers, Botha bit down on his mouthguard. The suit pumped air into the pressure sleeves on his legs, and his chair tilted back into a reclined position. Then the autopilot rotated the ship.

Eight-g counterburn for ten minutes. That was more than the crew could withstand without being in prepared couches. But they had something else up their sleeves.

Bright flashes flickered at the edges of his vision, a clear sign they were closing in on their target: Europa. Jupiter’s radiation flashes were visible even through the magnetic shielding.

No one spoke during the counterburn. No one could, with air being forced into their lungs by the spacesuit. But a message flashed up in his visor.

>Message from Terran Defense HQ: Mission is still a go. ASN refuses to open blockade around Jupiter moon Europa. Europa Basin and Europa Orbital reaffirm their decision to join Terran Union. Break blockade and secure orbit.

Botha wanted to exhale but couldn’t. He could almost feel the xenobots moving through his body, repairing the damage the high g-forces were doing.

All that just to surprise the three ships blockading Europa. He had chosen his squad specifically. No captain would expect such old ships to brake that fast, because usually no one could survive it.

His ship was one of the first prototype-class intersolar battleships, and severely outdated against modern 4xx- or 3xx-class cruisers.

Most ships of his class had been upgraded to the 1xx class, with a rotating crew section and an A-Drive. Just like the five other ships in his wing. But they also lacked gravity plating, and with it, inertial dampeners.

But each ship still had highly dangerous PDGs and spinal guns. All he needed to crack Human armor.

>Sensors report: no movement of enemy forces. We’re safely in Jupiter’s shadow. Time until end of counterburn: 3 minutes.

As he was about to confirm the report, a sharp pain shot through his leg, followed by a prick from his autodoc bracelet.

The high-g maneuver had broken his leg, exactly where he had broken it in training. The pain medication worked fast. Still, the autodoc signaled he wouldn’t walk for the next few hours.

Fuck that shit… Fuck that war.

A warning flashed: one of Lieutenant Goseyun’s lungs had collapsed under the constant strain. The chair reacted on the autodoc’s orders. The navigator was sedated, and an artificial lung in the chair took over breathing for him until the counterburn ended and medics could help the man.

Fuck this war.

The bell rang four times: the counterburn would end in thirty seconds. Luckily for his ship, the course was programmed into the autopilot and didn’t need human interaction. He could have flown it, but a high-velocity orbital injection on pain medication wasn’t something he wanted to try.

While he stared at the countdown, he went through his plan again.

The situation was tricky. His three opponents were extremely capable ships. The DD-214 Forbin was the unknown element. With an almost completely French crew, she would probably fight to the end after the recent attacks on France by the Terran Union.

Next was the DD-134 Mecklenburg . Technically at Helios level. Botha also knew her captain. Maybe he could talk to her.

The last one was the critical element: the Argos . A BC-304 battlecruiser, with Captain Carmichael and Admiral Browner aboard.

The ship had been heavily damaged by Ganymede’s satellite defenses, but she was still a threat to anyone who dared to attack her. And Browner was a legend.

The bell rang again, and he could feel the ship turn. They were on a one-way orbit to their fate now. Either the surprise worked or it didn’t; changing course wasn’t possible anymore.

The pressure on his lungs receded, and the chair went back into an upright position.

“Bridge to Medbay, one badly injured here.”

Sensors officer Lieutenant Fourie had unbuckled her belts and was gliding over to Goseyun to check on him.

Botha knew from the autodoc report that the man was stable and sedated.

Lieutenant Commander Lindqvist, Botha’s XO, turned in his chair, his eyes still bloodshot from the high-g damage.

“ TDF California reporting in, Sir. California and Texas have perfect retrograde orbit insertion. ETA to Europa, T-minus sixty.”

“Thank you. Status of the Pegasus ?”

“ Pegasus has confirmed polar orbital insertion. ETA to Europa, seventy minutes.”

Botha watched the medics glide out of the bridge with the unconscious Lieutenant Goseyun. He wondered how many more had been injured, or even killed, by the Pegasus ’ much more brutal counterburn maneuver.

Fuck that war. We should be out in Pluto’s orbit laying mines, not killing our own people…

He checked the Helios ’ course. The Helios and the Persepolis had finished their prograde orbit insertion. ETA at Europa: sixty-five minutes.

The trap was set.

“Lieutenant Fourie, what’s the status of the decoys?”

“Decoys still on course. Accelerating at three g toward Pluto, Sir.”

To the blockading fleet, the decoys must look like a still-accelerating squad of old trash ships burning for Pluto.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

Everything was in place. Now it all came down to how Browner reacted.

—————

The noise of the repair crews at work rang through the whole ship. Browner preferred it to the sound of incoming fire.

Still, he would rather have had a drydock.

But the Argos was needed here in the outer system, now that the Aligned Planets had de facto been dissolved.

Under the constant metallic screeching of cutting tools in the background, he watched the latest tactical updates in the holotank of the CIC.

“Admiral, I have Admiral Georgiou on the line for you.”

Browner had been waiting for this call. ASN, Martian and Belt Union diplomats had been meeting with representatives from Earth. He hoped this whole nonsense was over by now.

By God, we have better things to do than fight each other.

“I’ll take it in my ready room.”

Walking back to his small office off the CIC, he cursed the Gaian Conspiracy. Even after their involvement had become known, the bad blood between the colonies and Earth was enough to keep the conflict going. And every destroyed ship or dropped bomb would make peace harder.

Sitting down, Browner hoped for the best and prepared for the worst.

“Please tell me you have good news, Nico. I’m sick of firing on my own people, and even sicker of them shooting back.”

“It’s fifty-fifty. Mars and the Belt Union don’t trust Earth anymore. Venus and the outer belt have reaffirmed their neutrality, but behind closed doors, they trust neither Earth nor the ASN.”

Of course they didnt. Browner had had enough of it.

“Nico, I’m sick of it. You’re my friend. But face it, they don’t trust you. They claim we’re nothing but a junta. And on some levels, they’re right.”

Browner didn’t want to snap at his friend, but someone had to tell it like it was.

Admiral Georgiou leaned back in his chair. “You’re right. That’s why I want to step down as Triumvir. The colonies have created a new Colonial Council, to figure out how to move forward. They will convene and create a new government. The EEU is supporting them fully.”

“Good. When?” Browner was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“After the Batract invasion fleet reaches Sol.”

Of course. By then, either one side had won, or both sides had to settle and defend the system together. The Great Maker forbid politicians take responsibility for once in their lives.

Better to wait everything out than officially declare the Aligned Planets dead by establishing a Colonial Council.

“David, I can see you making faces.” Admiral Georgiou shook his head.

“Well, what did you expect? It’s typical. The politicians cover their asses while we fight each other. My solution would be to lock them in a room and starve them until they come to their senses.”

“Tempting. But there’s good news: we have an agreement on rules of engagement.”

Browner raised an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“From now on, neither side will be allowed to use or target ground-to-space defenses. The ASN and the TDF will prepare defenses in the outer belt in a coordinated effort—”

“Are you fucking with me, Nico? We kill each other in the inner system and work together in the outer belt? Is that a joke?”

“I assure you, it’s not. Both sides will honor the neutrality of the Digital Sentients. And both sides will accept Digital Sentients as free citizens of the Aligned Planets and the Terran Union.”

“So Earth is finally accepting Digital Sentients now?”

“Well, they had no choice. Otherwise, they’d risk the DS choosing our side.”

Browner noticed officers shuffling in the CIC.

“Nico, something’s up here. Europa just had a failed revolution. Some of the tourists there seem to be hell-bent on joining Earth’s side. Sending Templars down to back up Gerber didn’t help the situation either. There was a lot of damage.”

“I’m more concerned about where the DS disappeared to.”

Georgiou was right, but Browner respected Lyra’s decision. The AIs, no, the correct term was DS, had retreated somewhere hidden.

More movement in the CIC caught Browner’s eye.

“Nico, I have to cut this short. Something’s happening.”

“Yes, I know, Europa—”

“No, I mean, something—”

“Admiral Browner to the CIC, please.”

The fact that the Lyra VI system used the intercom, unlike the real Lyra, who would have used the desk’s communicator, was a painful reminder that Lyra wasn’t aboard.

Straightening his blouse, Browner stepped into the CIC.

“Report.”

Lieutenant Commander Miller, the tactical officer, turned from his screen.

“Sir, two TDF ships just appeared from behind Jupiter on course for Europa. We have an incoming call.”

“On screen.” Browner could guess what the Terran Defense Force captain wanted.

The puffy face of a young man in an ASN uniform, without the prominent five-pointed star, appeared.

“This is Captain Botha of the TDF Texas . We are here at the request of the provisional government of Europa Basin. Your blockade of the moon is unconstitutional. You have thirty minutes to withdraw, or we will open fire.”

Browner studied the man. He had heard of Botha. Apparently, he had been an instructor in the Earth Defense Fleet.

“Captain Botha, the current legitimate government of Europa has informed us that the few disorganized revolutionaries have been captured and imprisoned. Your presence here is unneeded and unwelcome. Change your course, or we will be forced to open fire. This moon is under ASN protection.”

Turn away, turn away, don’t make me shoot.

“Negative, Argos . If there was a revolution or a rebellion, we at least want to witness the proceedings and ensure there isn’t a military junta oppressing free citizens. We will enter orbit, by force if needed.”

Browner signaled the comms officer to cut the channel.

“Order the Forbin onto an intercept course. Go to yellow alert. Prepare for battle.”

The Forbin should be enough to convince Captain Botha to change course. Two old BC-1xx ships were no match for a second-generation destroyer. Not with the Mecklenburg and the Argos giving long-range support.

He was about to get a coffee before he had to suit up, when something occurred to him.

“Cadet Six, give me Captain Botha’s personnel file.”

The young cadet had obviously already looked it up, as the file appeared on screen immediately.

The man in the picture was thinner.

“Overlay the picture with a still from the call.”

The still frame appeared. As was standard, the bridge behind the captain was a VI-generated room, to hide any sensitive data potential opponents could glimpse from screens.

The faces matched, but the person in the still had a bloated face. Either the captain had gained twenty kilograms, or…

“He’s on a ship without gravity. He’s not on the Texas —”

So where the hell is he?

“Shields to full power, full military thrust. Get us out of orbit!”

—————

The call ended, just as Botha had predicted. Browner wasn’t that easy to impress. The man had stood his ground against a whole Batract fleet. To assume he would retreat here was delusional.

But looking at the tactical overview, he could see Browner had sent the Forbin to intercept the Texas and the California .

Now it was time for part two.

“Fire control, do we have coordinates for the Argos and the Mecklenburg ?”

“Yes, Sir. PDGs and missile tubes loaded, targets set.”

Orbital mechanics were a wonderful thing. Botha could use the Texas ’ sensors to aim at the Argos , even though he was still hidden behind Jupiter.

If I fire now, there will be dead and injured on both sides. PDG rounds would only blind the Argos and destroy her sensors. But they’ll fire back. And the Mecklenburg will be shredded if we hit her.

The question is, do I have a choice? If I retreat now, they’ll just send someone else. Someone worse…

“Fire.”