TEP Chpt 17

=The Eagle's Perch=
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==Chapter 17 - Decisive==
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===Plans handle former allied fleets===
The Black between Keystone and AugustFree Worlds LeagueAdmiral Antillios of the 1st Fleet FWLN30 November 2732
Admiral Antillios of the 1st Fleet FWLN
The Admiral's Quarters were the largest and lushly furnished cabin in a ship. It was still cramped and awkward to live in. Especially in zero-G. I'm seventy-three years old. Even though I was just a decade over middle-aged, the near sixty years I've spent in the service adds up. Turning in zero-G was a physically intensive exercise on its own. And my back isn't what it used to be.
 
That wasn't even getting into the other effects of low-G, like sleep disturbance, nasal congestion, the famous Garn package, Space Motion Sickness, and the ever damned Sopite Syndrome. The last one was particularly egregious for the naval service. The sometimes sudden projectile vomiting we can deal with, but the lethargy, drowsiness, and mild depression could kill people, or worse, founder a ship.
 
All that to say, although I love space, I hate space travel.
 
Which is why it's a welcome relief to see the final pieces of the three space stations assemble. Life aboard was fun, right until you need to take a shit. After that it was drudgery and mild misery.
 
The things we sailors do for our country. Let it never be said the Navy isn't the most loyal servant of the League.
 
This was the only place the pretenses of provincialist particularize fell away, and we recognized each other for what we were, brothers and sisters in a big, if not particularly harmonious, family.
 
Having been raised on Kanata, I knew a lot about that. Being able to look at a woman from Bolan's Thumb and realizing deep in your gut you're willing to fight and die beside her, and vice versa, was a life-changing experience. It was an experience I wished more back home had.
 
Punching the door controls opened the hatch to a long hallway. It took only a few short minutes of walking to get to the meeting room, returning salutes to sailors along the way.
 
Inside I found my NavInt head standing by an off projector with the rest of the team seated. He gave a sharp salute. "Sir."
 
"Vice Admiral Teuku, good to see you." I saluted in turn. I took my seat next to Vice Admiral Okechuku, head of my Combat Task Force. "Let's not waste time, and get this going."
 
Teuku nodded. "Alright. I'm pleased to say that Operation Whisper is a success. The entire 1st Fleet has successfully extricated from the front in secret. Thanks to the efforts of SAFE and the Ministry of Intelligence, no one knows we're here. We are free to repair and refit away from prying eyes." Or potential ambush, as the traitor 2nd reminded, was all too real.
 
He cleared his throat before continuing, "While the disappearance of the traitor 2nd is cause for some concern, we believe they are most likely heading back to, similarly, refit and repair. Their campaign across the main front and assault on Regulus IV taxed them greatly. It's no small feat to defeat a provincial capital's naval defenses. But doing so comes at great cost. Their armor must be stripped to the bones by now. They'll be in no condition to fight. That gives us enough time to bring ourselves back up to full operational readiness."
 
I could feel a light tension in the room vanishing. While it was part of the plan, hearing it become real certainly helps alleviate the ghost of stress that hung around during war.
 
"Once we're back up to strength, we'll have options. If the 2nd were to return and perform another surprise attack, we'll be ready to catch and destroy them. If they don't, we can see that our sister fleets also receive similar treatment to us. Then we can follow through with the original naval plan of grinding the rebels underneath our superior logistical capability. That's all for now," he finished.
 
Clearing her throat, Vice Admiral Jakuya added, "While the cause of the current pause is lamentable, it's still rather welcome. The mad dashing of before never gave us enough time to affect proper repairs. The work my sailors did was good, but slap jobs are no substitute for proper berth time."
 
"Berth time the rebels don't have," appended Okechuku. "We outnumber them three to two, in fleets. And ours are proper fleets, not the bare-bones collection of the 2nd or 3rd."
 
As an Admiral, learning to read the room was a skill you had to pick up early. From what I can feel, morale was good. Not high, but good. "Sounds like, in spite of our set-backs and the bush wars in the Anti-Spinward, we're on our way to winning the war." I pushed. "And that's thanks to you lot. The last three years has demonstrated we are all one truly stellar team."
 
With that, the meeting ended. I didn't expect my words to immediately embolden them. I knew operational morale was something that was built up over time, with careful words and good results. The results I have no direct control over, but I could at the very least speak to their hearts.
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===Do not Speak ill of the Unfortunate​===
The Black between Keystone and AugustFree Worlds LeagueAdmiral Antillios of the 1st Fleet FWLN1 January 2733
Two Yardships and three large space station nursed an entire fleet. Four Atreus-class Battleships, Two League-class Destroyers, and one Aegis-class Heavy Cruiser were docked and swarmed by hundreds of smaller craft. They reminded me of Remoras attached to great Gascony Sharks I used to watch in nature documentaries.
Months worth of combat and maneuvers had stressed us to our breaking point, especially after the traitor 3rd's offensive. Still, High Command demanded we serve. We were willing, but our bodies were only barely able. The space stations were more important for us as a place for RnR than a means of refueling and rearming. My sailors took advantage of it, and wrung it for every bit of joy they could get.
 
"Bartender! Another round!" someone cried out from below, "ON ME!"
 
A raucous screaming immediately followed. Some muffled by food stuffed down their gobs. Normally, sailors like us wouldn't be able to eat or drink comfortably in the Black. Most GravDecks were too small for that.
 
Zero-G and low-G was fun for about a day. After that, it starts taxing your whole body and mind. Intra-cranial pressure is not fun.
 
It was always welcome when us spacers got a proper GravDeck. The 200 meter diameter long primary of the Nova-Korea space station actually gave us a full-blown 1-G worth of gravity to enjoy. That meant old fogeys like me could do a proper flop on a nice chair, and stretch out like bad laundry.
 
Some clever architecture made it seem like the inside of the deck was bigger than it should be. Somehow accommodating a balcony overlooking a 'ground floor' with a bar and kitchen.
 
As an officer and admiral, I was the very last to be served. The lower ranks ate before the higher ranks. Enlisted ate before the officers; officers ate before the flag staff, and everyone else ate before the admiral. That was old tradition dating to before the Age of War. It promoted cohesion and comradery.
 
Mostly it promoted my appetite.
 
A waitress approached from my right. I could just peek her long legs and black slitted pencil skirt out from underneath my peaked cap. "Your Nyama Choma, Kachumbari salad, and Ugali, sir."
 
I dragged my body up into something resembling presentable. "Thank you, miss," I said, then tipped her a handful of Camerons. I could tell from her wide eyes, she wasn't expecting this much cash as a tip. But I was an admiral, and I was feeling generous today.
 
Especially with service like this. The white Ugali was as soft and fluffy as a cloud. The Kachumbari, I was half certain, was made from fresh picked tomatoes and onions. Fuck, those barbecued goat cuts were falling off their bones.
 
I took a spoon to test the meat. A cut near the goat leg's bone revealed the damn thing was falling off. It was like I took a knife to the thing, except I was doing it with a spoon.
 
Oh, yeah. It's good to be admiral of the 1st.
 
No expenses spared indeed.
 
Spoon and fork in hand, and a burning in my gut, I threw away officer's decorum and began demolishing my meal. The ugali was as soft as it looked, the goat was tender and juicy, and the salad complimented everything perfectly. I was in a slice of heaven, and I was determined to lose myself in it.
The rest of my officers weren't much better. All of them were making a mess of themselves with food or drink, or food and drink. Jovial, boisterous, eager and happy. Or a little too eager and happy, if the one junior Lt. vomiting to the side was any indication.
 
 We've all earned it.
 
 Years fighting the civil war, and dealing with high command, culminated in a lot of stress and anxiety. More so than usual. Sailing the Black is never easy, made all the worse by someone trying to kill you in it. Then the Ghost Fleet struck, and Regulus IV nearly fell within less than a week. One province against the rest of the League would make anyone a nervous wreck.
 
 My Vice Admiral Okechuku, however, ate as normal. That wouldn't be cause for concern if I didn't know for a fact the 196 cm tall giant could demolish a family meal in half the time I could eat through mine. Something was poking at the guy. It didn't take a genius to know what.
 
 I cleared my throat and put on my best Admiral Voice. "Vice Admiral, I know what's on your mind, go ahead and speak it," I said lowly, careful to keep this conversation as private between us as I could. No one turned to look at us, so I took that as a success.
 
Vice Admiral Okechuku put his knife and fork down. He chewed through the last of his mouthful of green salad slowly and deliberately. Finally, he answered, "I do not wish to speak ill of our sister fleets, but I worry about them."
 
The 5th and the 4th were, in Star League Defense Force terms, 'Regular and Reliable'. R/R as the org tables would put them. They weren't like the 1st, 'Veteran and Fanatical' or V/F. Their combat ability and political reliability were average for the SLDF. Nothing worth thinking about.
 
But in a Civil War, R/R wasn't always enough.
 
R/R was the same classification given to the traitor 2nd and 3rd Fleets, and look what happened to them. Not to mention the dozens of ground pounder and aerospace brigades that also flipped. I was pretty sure SAFE was still splitting hairs over how the 8th and 12th Marik Militia flipped. Or how the 3rd nearly joined if it weren't for the accidental, timely intervention of the 4th Fleet appearing over their garrison system. That was nearly an entire division of mechs gone at the outset of the war, to accompany two whole fleets.
 
Just fighting and maintaining a sense of normality was hard enough. Then Elise had to throw a fit and burn dozens of worlds down. She was lucky, most of those worlds were rebel worlds. The use of WMDs pissed off everyone something fierce. Only the shock and humanitarian debacle stopped the rebel advances cold.
 
"They've hung on for this long," I reassured him. "They'll hang on with us till we win." I nudged him with my elbow and nodded my head in the general direction of the fleet's crews. "See that. Fighting and adversity has a tendency to bring people together. We can rely on them."
 
Okechuku only sighed and returned to his meal. I wasn't getting through to him.
 
I returned to my own meal shortly after. While I ate, I tried to think of ways to reassure him. The bad thoughts were eating him up from the inside out, and I couldn't bear to see that in my man.
 
"It isn't just them."
 
His was voice was a whisper I barely heard.
 
Right. That was something serious. "Later," I promised, looking into his eyes. There absolutely would be a 'later'. Talk like that was defeatist. That wasn't something I could tolerate in my Vice Admiral, especially a Vice Admiral of the 1st.
 
He gave me a complicated, but grateful smile, and began tearing into his meal.
 
It seems like I stumbled on the right answer there.
 
I returned to eating, enjoying the atmosphere of the surroundings. The energy of shore leave was condensed into a tiny sardine can that was this station. It reminded me of better times, when I was a young Shiny, bright-eyed and full of wonder.
 
Commodore Stimson fell asleep on her empty plate. She was practically dead to the world. Good thing we were above the enlisted, and they couldn't see. That circus wouldn't have been tolerated even on RnR.
 
"--if they pounce on the 5th?"
 
"No way! That's impossible."
 
The conversation caught my attention. Gossiping sailors wasn't something I got to enjoy overhearing anymore as admiral. Which is a shame, some of them were fun.
 
"They did it with Regulus, they could do it again."
 
"That's trying to catch a mobile fleet in transit, that ain't the same as hitting a stationary world!" At least his friend had a brain to go with that voice.
 
"Not to mention that'd be impossible," interrupted a third. "The only way the Ghost Fleet could catch the 5th is if they knew where they were ahead of time." Loud gulping followed before he continued, "Only SAFE would know that." Not including High Command, he meant.
 
Grunting agreement came from the rest, putting an end to that conversation. Disappointingly, they didn't continue to gossip. Ah, well. Maybe next time.
 
I looked down at my plate and found it finished. I was at that ambiguous place between being full and still having space in my stomach, so I took out a coin and flipped it. Heads, I order more. Tails, I stop.
 
The coin landed in my hands, tails side up. Well, that decides it. I wiped my face and looked for any of the staff to flag down for my bill.
 
It was a great meal, much better than what we got on ships.
 
I think I'll tip the kitchen too.
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===The demands of Duty===
Okechuku left my office. He was slightly less unsure, if my read on him was right. He still wasn't fully reassured, though. Something to work on.
 
I had no other appointments, that left me with the mess of paperwork to get through. My In box was filled with a head tall stack of paper. My Out box was empty.
 
Just another day.
 
The most important of the paperwork were the reports dealing with the warships.
 
The fact of the matter was, the old girls were in a bad way. They were all centuries old, went through the Reunification War, patrolled too much space with too few ships in the following peace, then finally the civil war.
 
The offensive by the traitor 3rd wasn't just dangerous because it was headed straight towards Atreus. It was dangerous because it was a high intensity naval campaign, and we were sailing in old boats. At most, these hulls mustn't have more than another century on them.
 
The paperwork on my desk said as much. Near half the stack was just reports on the readiness status of the fleet. All of them had something about the age of their ships. Not just the warships, either. The DropShip fleet was an important part of a proper fleet, providing indispensable capabilities in light escort, patrols, and general defense against enemy aerospace assets. Ours were also old. Thankfully not as old as the warships.
 
At least the yardships and space stations were new-ish. That was one thing old Parliament got right, making sure the infrastructure to create and maintain a war fighting fleet was always in top condition. Even if recruiting wasn't.
 
Going through some papers, I found one that was mildly intriguing. Commodore Nathaniel wanted to organize a mock battle between two fleets, one heavy on DropShips and one totally lacking them. I could certainly do that. It was also pushed policy directives to further the integration of DropShips into Navy doctrine as a whole, as a mirror of the SLDF and because of our own experiences.
 
Those little buggers could really play hell with shipping. The entire Anti-Spinward was a nightmare front of constant whack-a-mole against raiders preying upon shipping and docks. We've thankfully aped the SLDF enough before shit went down, so accidentally came semi-prepared. We still got stretched out thin, though, that I cannot deny.
 
I'd have to schedule meetings. And pre-meetings and pre-pre-meetings for that matter. The necessity of keeping everyone behaved, on task, on the same objective required a truly stupendous amount of meetings.
 
Somehow, hundreds of years after the invention of the email, some people still don't 'get it' until they have a face to face meeting.
 
The final paper I read through was a report by Vice Admiral Jakuya on the status of the Support Task Force. The yardships and mobile space stations were individually the most expensive pieces of any fleet. Collectively, they could rival the price tag of the 1st's Combat Task Force.
 
Consumption of parts and protium fuel were within our initial estimations. That was more than good. Our initial estimation was us being misers when it came to our expenses. To hear that we were within it said great things, mainly that we didn't take as much damage as we initially believed against the rebels.
 
It would be another two days before the entire fleet was ready for its shakedown cruise. After that, we would be ready for a fight.
 
We were still waiting for the rebels to make their next move. Their attempt at a miracle, to break our resolve with the death of Elise, fell flat. Bertram was the real heart and soul of the Federalist cause, not Elise. He was the quiet voice pushing us forward, reminding us why we fight. Elise's death only rid us of an obstacle to his ascension, while simultaneously placing their leadership within our jaws.
 
Victory was well within our grasp. Once the rebel senior leadership was gone, the rest of the body would soon follow. All that was left, was to foil their last desperate gasp.
 
That's why we were here in the Black between Keystone and August. A nice central position near the main front, and away from any civilization that might house any spies. It was a bit of a bitch to maintain contact with High Command here, but the added security through secrecy was worth it.
 
Whenever the 2nd reappears, we'll be ready to sally out and crush them. We may have the same ships, but we don't have the same crew. The 1st is made of the very best of the Navy. One-on-one, we would win.
 
//***ALL HANDS TO BATTLE STATIONS\\***
 
The klaxon screamed the war horn, as a deep red flooded the room.
 
I punched my communicator to get in touch with the Command Net. "What's happening out there?!"
 
"Admiral, this is Commodore Hero. The traitor 2nd has Jumped in. They're right on top of us!"
 
"The fuck." I whispered in disbelief.
 
How in the flying fuck did they find us here. We are literally in the middle of nowhere.
 
A voice came through an open channel, broadcasted for all to hear. <<"This is Admiral Minerva of the 2nd Fleet. Per the standing orders from Captain-General Boris Marik, acting Captain-General Alice Allison, and by decree of Parliament, we will accept surrender. Although, I personally would love to hear otherwise.">>
 
Shit.
 
We weren't in any condition to fight.
 
Duty demands I surrender to protect my sailors.
 
At the same time, honor compels me to tell her to stuff it. The surrender of the 1st could very well spell the collapse of the Navy, exposing Atreus to invasion. Surrendering without a fight would also surrender a fully intact fleet to the enemy. Not to mention obliterate whatever morale we had left.
 
Fuck.
 
I keyed the comms to reply to her. "This is Admiral Antillios, leader of the 1st Fleet." I pray that my ancestors judge my next actions kindly.
 
"I surrender."
 
I didn't become Admiral by being a hot-headed idiot. Fighting would do no good for my people or the cause. With my actions, we would lose the war. The loss of one-third of the Navy, that would surely create a new rebel fleet, would ensure that.
 
But after the war comes the peace.
 
If we live, we can win that.
 
Ultimately, that matters more.
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===Reaffirming allegiance of Loyalty===
Oriente, Duchy of OrienteOriente, Duchy of OrienteFree Worlds League1 January 2733Alice Allison
I stood at the podium waiting for the signal.
 
It was cool an airy inside the cricket stadium. New Year's on Southern Oriente were wintry cold, and the stadium's climate control were set low to keep noise down. Not that it helped with all the bodies packed in.
 
A new tradition was starting today. It was one that surprisingly had unanimous support by Parliament. As acting Captain-General by Boris' command, confirmed by Parliament, I would see to the new Federal troops swearing in.
 
Sailors, soldiers, aerospace pilots, all of them were being sworn in today. Among their ranks was a regiment's worth of aerospace fighter pilots made entirely of citizens from the Marik Commonwealth. By tradition, Federal recruits shed their provincial ties, but you could pick Commos out by that stupid coiffed haircut that was somehow still in vogue over there.
 
It was a clever political ploy. A powerful, message clearly spoken through actions, not words.
 
Cameras flashed and vid-recorder teams, both holo and traditional, were swinging their piece around like cocky missileers looking for a target. They had every reason to. It was unprecedented that a swearing in ceremony be televised. Previously they were private affairs, especially between the swearer and their Liege.
 
There would be no oaths sworn to Lieges this time. There would be no oaths sworn to Lords, or provinces, and not even to the government. This too was unprecedented. Even the Star League Defense Force swore their oaths to the First Lord in defense of the whole Star League.
 
Their oaths will be sworn to the new constitution of the Free Worlds League.
 
Two red lights blinked and then turned green.
 
Show time.
 
"Good evening, my fellow citizens. My name is Alice Allison, acting Captain-General by order of Captain-General Boris Marik. I'm afraid I must apologize for his tardiness, he's currently entertaining guests with dreadful manners."
 
That got some light chuckles.
 
"He has empowered me in his stead to perform all the necessary duties that he himself is barred from performing. To this end, I have been given the rare pleasure of officiating the swearing in ceremony of new members into the Federal Militia—defenders of every single member of the Free Worlds League.
 
"Defenders of all that we hold dear.
 
"I am deeply honored by him."
 
"And all of you."
 
The atmosphere's change was immediate. Throats tightening. Eyes misting. And backs straightening. It was rare for a Duchess of a powerful province to say they are honored by someone's presence.
 
"I am honored because what we will do, will be unprecedented within the Sphere. Those of you who have been to these enlistment ceremonies before, especially former Free Worlds Guards, will realize this ceremony is new. I want you all to understand, once this enlistment ceremony is done, you will stand as unique, the only one of your kind throughout all of Human Space."
 
"You will not swear an oath to a Lord."
 
"You will not swear an oath to a Province."
 
"You will not swear your oath to a Government."
 
"You will swear an oath to our Constitution. An oath to defend the foundations and the ideals of the Free Worlds League. An oath to a higher cause, greater than any mortal man or woman."
 
"Know this, once you swear the oath, no one else will resemble you. You will alone, tall and proud, within the Sphere."
 
"If you wish to continue, make a fist and place your right hand above your heart."
 
"Now, repeat after me."
 
"I solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the Free Worlds League against all enemies foreign and domestic; that I will be faithful and bear true allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the lawful orders of Parliament and the officers appointed over me, according to the Canon on Military Law.
 
"I impose this obligation upon myself freely without reservation to serve forevermore.
 
"This I declare and promise."
 
 I gave them an acknowledging nod. I could see tears flowing now. I could feel the judging weight of billions of souls through those cameras, and the reserved might of the House Lords. If that was immense pressure upon me, I shudder to think what the newly enlisted were feeling.
 
 "By order of Parliament, by the powers invested in me as Captain-General, I induct thee into the ranks of the Free Worlds Legionnaires.
 
"In an Era of Doubt, you shall keep Faith. In an Age of War, you shall be our Shield. In Times of Darkness, you shall be the Light."
 
"So say we all."
 
"As acting Captain-General, as representative of Parliament the lawful government of the Free Worlds League, I thank you for your fealty, your service, and your faith. It is not misplaced; our victory is at hand. This I promise with all the authority my position holds."
 
"Thank you, and happy New Year."
 
"Now comes the contract signing ceremony. While it lacks the pomp of the verbal ceremony, as a Leaguer it holds equal gravitas. Contracts are sacred, that is truth.
 
With this, the power of the Captain-General is broken, and the Civil War is coming to its close. At long last, the struggle between the military and Parliament is at its end.
 
I can't wait for the peace.
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==Chapter Notes==
*; Chapter Notes :The Free Worlds Legions came in a few centuries early. Ultimately, they're the same as the OTL Legions, with a few minor differences. The biggest one I'm sure you can pick out. I hopefully hammered it home enough times. The smaller one being that they're prescreened for loyalty (due to the civil war) to the League as a whole, implied via former members of the Free Worlds Guards participating in the ceremony. Those guys are Fanatics, with a capital F. If they think someone's a like-minded individual, that says something about them.
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