"Captain Westlex, there's no sign of the High Admiral."

Jonathan looked at the Confederate soldier who delivered the report, and then gazed around the Esprit's bridge. A number of escape pods had been jettisoned from the Esprit and several smaller ships had fled the Terran system, but there was no way to be certain where they had gone. The only thing Jonathan was sure of was that Colliard Gaunis was on one of them. By this time, however, he had all but abandoned any hope of apprehending the man.

Nearly five hours had passed since the Patrol forces surrendered to the Confederacy. In that time, a reasonably accurate accounting of the cost of the battle had been assembled. Losses had been heavy on both sides, but things would have been far worse for the Confederacy if Gaunis had inspired a bit more loyalty.

The High Admiral had ordered the destruction of the Confederate fighters left virtually powerless by the triggering of their stasis fields. Fortunately, few Patrol pilots were cold blooded enough to attack a helpless enemy; instead, they called for the Confederate ships' surrender and offered to escort them to Terra. Upon learning that the Confederate vessels hadn't the control left to maneuver through the atmosphere, the Patrol ships simply moved in to keep an eye on them. Convincing the Patrol pilots to reverse the terms of the surrender had been relatively easy once Stingray One returned to Terra alongside the High Admiral's captured flagship.

The cost to the battle's chief combatants had been high as well. The captured Patrol dreadnoughts would require prolonged stays at the repair docks of Eminence before they would be ready to return to their roles as guardian vessels of the United Galaxy worlds. But that would have to wait until the Confederacy shook loose Gaunis's forces on both the ships and the space station.

Of the larger Confederate vessels, only Stingray Two had suffered any truly extensive damage, although the number and proximity of Gaunis's bombs had damaged the other ships far more seriously than might have happened had the weapons been delivered by more conventional means.

It would be days before the Cheops and the two freighters were fit enough to limp home to their accustomed berths where they could be fully repaired. As for Stingray Two, it would require weeks before she would be able to return to Teneia where the real work could begin on putting her back together.

Jonathan had been surprised to learn that a significant portion of Two's damage was due to Mathan's heroic—if somewhat desperate—act of final defiance against the ship that had been slowly cutting his to bits.

Mathan had figured he had just enough nelux left to control a discharge, and so, using the energy generated by Stingray Two's on-board power plants, he sent the energy bolt that vaporized the bow of the Esprit and gave One the edge she needed to overcome the vessel. Now Jonathan feared he might have to have another talk with Captain Mathan, this time to unteach him some of the independent thinking he'd learned during their last heart-to-heart discussion.

Down on Terra, scattered resistance to the Confederacy's takeover remained, especially around the New San Francisco and Geneva bases, but the Terran Guard forces, bolstered by troops sent down to the planet from many of the Confederate vessels, were quickly suppressing the worst of the fighting.

It would be some time before all was quiet, but for the most part, the Confederacy had won the war. Still, there was a lot of work left to do. And there was still Gaunis to worry about.

Jonathan sighed again and focused on the Confederate soldier standing patiently before him. "Continue the search, and keep me apprised of your progress."

"Aye, sir." The man saluted and turned away.

Jonathan watched him leave, and then gingerly shifted his left arm where it rested in a sling across his chest. The sling and a mild painkiller had been his only concessions to the ache he began feeling once the adrenaline rush of the battle subsided. Now that the painkiller was beginning to wear off as well, he was having second thoughts about refusing further treatment.

He scanned the Esprit's bridge again. He did not feel comfortable here. Maybe he should turn the ship over to Terling, get back to Stingray One, have his shoulder taken care of, and then go to his quarters for a well-deserved nap. He might even be able to convince Kressa to take a break from whatever help she was giving Captain Vel aboard Cheops.

He located Terling near the command station in the center of the bridge. The man was doing an admirable job of seeing to the smooth transfer of power from the Patrol forces on board the dreadnought to her new Confederate masters, and taking care of every problem that came up in the process.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

After a moment, Jonathan caught his eye.

Terling nodded an acknowledgement and started toward Jonathan standing at the rear of the bridge. He had taken less than three steps when a series of startled exclamations sounded around the room, calling attention to the main screen.

On the viewer, showing up as little more than two dim smudges of light, but growing larger by the instant, were a pair of Patrol dreadnoughts.

Jonathan's heart skipped a beat.

Terling looked at him, his jaw set. "Captain, if those two vessels—" His mouth went slack as his gaze shifted over Jonathan's right shoulder. "Richard! What the devil are you doing here?"

Jonathan turned.

Richard Shaw, in full admiral's regalia, stood in the bridge entrance. With him were three men wearing the uniforms of Calton's governor's forces and a half dozen bewildered-looking Confederate soldiers.

"Admiral," Jonathan said, too stunned by his presence to think of anything else.

"Aidan, Captain Westlex." The admiral nodded to each of the men in turn, and then stepped forward to gaze around a bridge that had once been his.

"I'm not sure I like what Gaunis has done to the place," he said, "but I think I can get used to it." He shot Jonathan an inquiring glance.

"You—want the Esprit back?" Jonathan voiced the obvious, and decided then and there to give it to him.

Shaw smiled and started to speak, but an outburst by Terling stopped him.

"Damn it, Richard, what are you doing here?!" He moved forward to stand beside Jonathan, and shot an angry look at a copper-haired man standing with Shaw. "Captain Maeller, do you realize how much danger you've put the governor in by allowing him to come here?"

Shaw raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "What danger? You won, didn't you?"

Terling turned his hot look on Shaw. "And if we hadn't won?"

"Then I'd be as good as dead anyway," he said, and then winked at Terling. "But they'd have to catch me first."

For an instant, Terling looked as if he planned to continue the argument, but then he seemed to think better of it. "How did you get here?"

Shaw gestured to the front of the bridge where the screen showed the two dreadnoughts still approaching.

"What…?" Jonathan began to ask something, and then realized that his mind hadn't made enough sense of the past few moments' proceedings to compose any logical questions. He gave up with a shake of his head and another glance at the dreadnoughts.

"Don't worry, Captain," Shaw said in a reassuring voice. "Your forces on Terra know they're coming." He stepped forward to the sensor station and activated a control.

Several lines of text superimposed themselves over the images of the warships, identifying them as Admiral Isaacson's D'cojen and Jaise Siyeen's Raimo.

Terling looked on with an expression of utter disbelief.

Additional readouts indicated both vessels were coming in with weapons systems powered down.

"We've been outside the system for the past couple of hours," Shaw said. "Once we'd given you enough time to spot us, we realized that none of your ships or bases had enough sensing equipment left to do the job."

He cocked his head at Jonathan and Terling, giving them the pained look of an instructor forced to reprimand a pair of favored, but wayward, students. "That's no way to run a planet, gentlemen, leaving her blind. Who knows what might sneak up on you? Fortunately, my two friends out there have offered their services until you can get some of your local systems back online."

"What are we supposed to worry about sneaking up on us?" Jonathan asked.

Shaw spread his hands and shrugged, and then brought them together with a small clap, smiling devilishly.

"Maybe just power-hungry governors," he said, giving the bridge another reminiscent look before adding, "who are damned glad to be on the winning side."

"Richard…" Terling growled through clenched teeth.

Shaw's smile faded slightly. "Aidan?"

"What. Is. Going. On?" Terling pointed to the screen. "Those ships belong to Isaacson and Siyeen. Last I heard, they were working for Gaunis—and not getting along well enough to be sent on one of his missions together, let alone act as lookouts for the people who just laid waste to his fleet."

"Well, they're getting along all right now," Shaw said in an almost sheepish tone. He walked over to the Esprit's command chair and seated himself with a smile. "Thanks to me."

He turned the chair to face Jonathan and Terling. "It seems I had some information Steven Isaacson wanted to view first-hand. When the High Admiral called his war council, Steve decided to pay me a visit instead. I showed him what he wanted, along with some interesting tidbits regarding his and Jaise Siyeen's falling out. He decided Siyeen should see what he had and sent it to him, along with a message telling him when and where he could meet us today. Apparently, Admiral Siyeen missed an important rendezvous at Mars to make that appointment."

So there had been a dreadnought missing from the Mars attack, Jonathan thought, and then wondered briefly if Stingray One would have come away as well as she had if that dreadnought had been there.

"That missed rendezvous may very well have won us the war," he said.

Shaw shrugged. "We've each contributed our part to the victory." His expression grew serious. "And paid our price. Captain, I've been in touch with admirals Byerly, b'Sora and Narcia. They know what's happened here, and they're willing to continue their present dealings with the Confederacy. Their only concern—and mine—is what you plan to do with the other admirals and their worlds."

Jonathan opened his mouth to answer, and then closed it again. What was he going to do?

"I suppose we'll let each world do what it wants," he said slowly, "either remain with the United Galaxy or join the Confederacy. Or go independent, if that's what they decide. As for the admirals… We'll have to wait to see about them. If they behave themselves, there's no reason they can't keep their commands."

He paused to catch Shaw's dark eyes, eyes so like Kressa's. "The Confederacy has never been interested in taking over the United Galaxy, Admiral. All we ever wanted was freedom, and the chance to do a little honest trading."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.