The Broken Peace

The fleet was en route two weeks out of Starbase Thespidon to reinforce the blockading ships around the breakaway world of Meteora. The planet’s governing body decided it no longer wished to be part of the Anatolian League, which could not be allowed to stand. The fleet had received orders to make an example of the planet as soon as it arrived at Meteora.

Admiral Breton Cloudsley stood near the viewscreen on the bridge of his flagship ANV Queen Berenice. The ship was the first of a new line of battle cruisers meant to operate alone or as a command ship of a small fleet. The ship’s hull was cigar-shaped with what resembled wings near its engine section. Cloudsley believed the ship resembled the Old Earth vessel known as the Concord.

The weapons systems were some of the most advanced ever created by the Anatolian shipwrights. The Berenice’s primary weapons were housed in four rotating turrets mounted at strategic points along the hull. They could fire either kinetic energy blasts or magnetically accelerated projectiles individually or in salvos. In addition, several missile batteries are on the ship for long-range anti-capital ship combat, orbital attacks, and anti-starfighter missions. In short, the ship was a mobile fortress.

Cloudsley turned his attention to the bridge, watching the crew as they performed their duties with finely trained precision. Their dark blue uniforms contrasted the mostly grey interior of the bridge. Officers keep watch over their stations as they observe the activities around them. Comm stations monitored the relays and messages from all parts of the ship and transmissions from Command Station Griffin.

Despite all the movement and conversations, the bridge was relatively quiet. Discipline was strict among the crew. There was no room aboard the ship for rowdy and disorderly behavior. The fleet’s expectations of its personnel were to keep their emotions in check at all times. The punishment for failure to live up to the fleet’s expectations could be quite severe. Still, on the Berenice, punishment was rarely necessary.

To Cloudsley’s right, he spotted the approach of his First Officer Lance Cazalas. “Sir, we are approaching our destination and will immediately drop out of light speed.”

“Excellent, sound general quarters as soon as we drop out of light speed. Once all ships are accounted for, begin operations against the Meteorean defense forces.”

“Any chance for negotiations?”

“None. Our orders are to obliterate all population centers.”

“And the survivors?”

“Assuming any survivors, they will be left to rot on the planet. I believe the Bureau of Labor wants to establish a work camp here once we are done.”

Cazalas nodded in agreement as a notification buzzed on the communications device he wore on the left collar of his pristine blue uniform. “Cazalas,” he said, waiting for the report that followed.

“Sir, we are dropping out of lightspeed,” Ensign Laherty reported from her post at the helm. “The ship stands ready for orders, sir.”

A smirk of satisfaction momentarily crossed his face. “Very good helm. Make your course for Meteora.”

“Aye, sir, the estimated time of arrival for the orbit of Meteora is twenty-five minutes,” she responded before signing off to attend to her duties.

“Comm station, notify me immediately once all ships in the fleet are accounted for.” Five minutes passed before all the ships of the fleet responded. Satisfied, he made his report to Admiral Cloudsley. “Sir, all twelve ships are accounted for and ready for deployment at your command.”

“Very well, Cazalas,” he calmly responded, “sound general quarters and prepare all ships for battle.” Cloudsley turned his attention to the view screen as crews rushed to their stations for the coming battle. “Bring up tactical display,” he ordered. The screen shifted to show the deployment of the small blockading force stationed at strategic points around the planet. Six small red dots appeared opposite the blockading ships, the enemy, no doubt. “Get me an identification of the enemy vessels.”

“Cazalas, what do you make of the enemy’s disposition?”

“Too small to break the blockade, yet formidable enough to repel an attack from the ships enforcing the siege.”

“My thoughts exactly. I would say the odds have swung entirely in our favor. Would you agree?”

“Perhaps, too well, sir?”

“Explain,” Cloudsley demanded.

“They could be leading us into a trap.”

“Very perceptive of you, Cazalas. Tactical, send out an ionization wave. Comm station, order all ships in the fleet to send out ionization waves.” Looking back at the tactical display, Cloudsley pondered his next move. “Now we see if your hunch is right.”

A few moments later, the tactical display revealed dozens of tiny red dots. “Just as I suspected, anti-ship mines.” Cloudsley felt a wave of pride wash over him, but he had little time to celebrate his cleverness.

“Shall I order our fighters to destroy the mines, sir?” asked Cazalas.

“No need. Have the gunners fix firing solutions and clear a path. Once that is accomplished, bring us within range of the enemy fleet, standard attack pattern.”

Task Force 105 began to close to within weapons range of the enemy formation. Within minutes the ships of the fleet locked in their firing solutions and annihilated the mines. Despite the precision of the ship’s weapons fire on the minefield, Cloudsley took no pleasure in its destruction. Instead, he focused on the enemy vessels as they turned to meet the threat. “Look at them Cazalas. They know they can’t possibly win, and yet they still wish to fight.”

“They know that no quarter will be given, sir. What choice do they have?”

“What choice, indeed?” Cloudsley replied. “Order gunners to begin fixing firing solutions for the enemy vessels. Send word to the Contessa to launch her fighters to target any incoming fighters or missiles.”

“Aye, sir,” Cazalas said and began to relay the given orders. Cloudsley watched as the crew reacted to the orders, carrying them out with vigor and precision. A sense of pride ran through him as he watched the ordered chaos of a crew preparing for battle.

The enemy fleet increased speed, trying to close quickly with its adversaries. They set their course directly toward the Berenice. Weapon systems came to life as they fixed their firing solutions. Moments later, the first missile salvos lurched from the enemy vessels. The ships, in response, increased their speed to full, seemingly to chase down their missiles—each ship bearing directly on the Berenice.

Cloudsley regarded their movements with amusement. “Helm, hold course. Deploy the Phantom and Ajax to coordinates 4262.887 heading 334, and intercept enemy vessels as they break away. Forward batteries commence firing as the enemy enters our range.”

“Sir, enemy missiles are...” Cazalas began.

“Yes, I am aware of them. We are in no danger,” Cloudsley cut him off. “Have the Panther extended our line to port just below Ajax.” Looking at his first officer, he could see the man did not understand the tactic. “The missiles are a ploy. They will detonate them at close range.”

“The radiation from the blasts will temporarily blind our sensors,” Cazalas said as he realized Cloudsley’s plan.

“Yes, and then veer hard to port and escape. I have redeployed the fleet to compensate for their maneuver. Space is three-dimensional; they can set any escape vector they wish. However, I have now set my trap, and they have walked right into it. Order our forward batteries to open fire on the lead ship.”

As anticipated, the enemy missiles detonated at about the same time the lead enemy ship took fire from Berenice’s main guns. Its shields collapsed on the third strike. The vessel was later reduced to a smoking hulk adrift in space.

The five remaining ships maneuvered directly into the incoming fire from the three Anatolian ships Cloudsley sent to intercept them. After a brief struggle, three of the five remaining ships were out of action, helplessly floating in the void. The remaining two vessels turned back toward Meteora at top speed.

“Sir, we are receiving a transmission from the Meteorian ships,” said the comms officer.

“To the Anatolian commander. We have no weapons systems; we only wish to leave the planet. We have civilians aboard the ship. Please cease fire, and allow us to return to Meteora. Repeat, we are unarmed.”

“Sir?” Cazalas said.

“You have your orders Commander Cazalas.”

“Tactical, open fire. Destroy the enemy vessels,” Cazalas said. The Berenice’s guns opened on the fleeing vessels, quickly bringing down their shields. Repeated blasts from the fleet reduced the fleeing ships to burning wreckage, floating aimlessly as Task Force 105 continued toward Meteora.

“All ships, this is Admiral Cloudsley speaking. Take stations around the planet and prepare firing solutions on all major cities and population centers, maximum effect.”

The ships of the fleet began to take their places around the planet. The crews inputted their firing solutions into the computers, and the weapons started to move into position. Missile tubes opened, ready to rain down devastation on the planet below. At last, the fleet stood prepared to bring judgment to the people of Meteora.

“All ships fire on my mark,” Cloudsley said.

“Sir, a single vessel just dropped out of lightspeed astern,” reported the ensign from the scanner station. “It’s one of ours, sir. Approaching at maximum speed.”

“Sir,” came the voice of the officer at the comm station, “they are hailing us. Priority One message.”

“Put it through,” commanded Cloudsley.

“Admiral Cloudsley, this is Captain Sebastien Marquette of the courier ship Hermes. By order of the Grand Assembly, you are to stand down operations against Meteora. Repeat, the Grand Assembly had orders you to cease operations against Meteora.”

“Captain Marquette, send your authentication codes immediately.”

“Sir, codes have been received. They are authentic,” came the voice of the comms officer.

Cloudsley looked over at Cazalas, seething with anger. “Order all ships to stand down. Keep firing solutions active until further notice. And get Captain Marquette in my ready room as soon as he docks with us. I also want after-action reports from all ships as soon as they are ready.” With that, Cloudsley departed the bridge for his quarters.