Three Square Meals Ch. 123

Alyssa rose from the bed and greeted the aquatic beauty with a loving kiss. "Thank you for taking such good care of him."

Calara shook off her concerns and smiled warmly at Helene as she joined her on the bed. "You look like you had a very nice time," she said, caressing those impressive teal curves.

Letting out a breathy sigh, Helene looked elated as she returned the brunette's smile. "He was just so tender and passionate... it was like John wanted to drown himself in my love. I always knew he was my soulmate, but this time it really felt as if our souls were united as one."

Alyssa shared a smile with Calara then sat beside the blissfully happy girl. "He needed you tonight, Helene. You really helped distract him from all his problems; he was happy and content when he finally fell asleep."

"It was so wonderful being with him!" Helene gushed, her blue eyes sparkling. She paused and her curious gaze flicked from the blonde to the brunette. "Are the two of you alright? You seem quite tense."

Giving her a reassuring smile, Alyssa nodded. "It's just been a very long and very painful day."

"I thought you seemed upset earlier." Helene placed a hand on her rounded tummy. "I brought you something to make you feel better..."

"I know... you're such a good girl," Alyssa said affectionately. She turned to Calara and smiled at the hungry gleam in those sultry brown eyes. "After you, gorgeous..."

***

Commander Tom Walker sat bolt upright in bed, a shocking thought permeating through his weary, unconscious mind with the blinding clarity of a supernova. "Oh fuck!"

Beth jolted awake and stared at him owlishly in the gloom. "You scared the heck out of me, Tom! What's wrong?!"

He rolled out of bed and rushed to the comms interface built into the desk. "Something Chen showed me before I went to bed... I can't believe it never crossed my mind until now! God... my head's like pudding at the moment!"

"You were exhausted and you've been through a lot," Beth said with sympathy, slipping out of bed and padding over to his side. She gently caressed his shoulder. "You're making a call? Can't it wait until morning?"

Swiping his hand across the comms interface, he shook his head, a grim expression on his face. "No, it really can't." He turned to give her a pained look over his shoulder. "Beth... would you mind ducking out of sight?"

"Oops, sorry!" she blurted out, quickly darting to the side out of view of the holo-camera built into the interface.

The winged sword symbol of the Terran Federation faded away and Chen's surprised face appeared in a flurry of pixels. "Walker? You know the Captain doesn't like us taking calls while we're on-shift."

"This is critically important!" Tom said urgently. "It's about the sensor data you showed me earlier!"

"I've been planning out what to put in my report," the Tactical Officer said, looking pleased. "I think you were right... Bexley's going to be really impressed."

"Forget the report!" Tom snapped. "You said the shuttle had made the same trip 59 times. Does it return from the other capital ship exactly 47 minutes later every time?"

Chen blinked in surprise, then his expression turned to dread as he checked the data. "You're right... how the hell did I miss that?!"

"Warn Captain Bexley! And launch sensor probes at the border!"

"Shit..." Chen muttered fearfully, wiping the sweat from his brow with a shaking hand. "Oh, shit..."

"Keep it together, Chen! We can't afford to panic right now!" Tom urged him.

The tactical officer took a deep breath, then saluted his friend and ended the call.

Tom dashed across to his wardrobe and flung open the door to grab a clean flight suit. "Goddamit..." he muttered under his breath.

Beth sat on the edge of the bed and looked at him with wide eyes. "What's happening, Tom? I don't understand..."

"The sensor grid's been compromised," he replied, his face bleak as he pulled on his uniform. "The sensor data we're seeing was a looped playback. The Brimorians have been masking their actual fleet movements."

"How's that even possible?" she asked, staring at him in astonishment.

"The only way I can think of, is if someone gave them the access codes to the sensor grid."

"Someone betrayed the Federation?!" Beth gasped, looking stunned. "Why would they do that?!"

"I have no idea," he replied, his face set in a grim mask. "But if there is a traitor in the fleet, we're in big trouble."

Tom zipped up his flight suit, then just as he was reaching for his boots, a blaring klaxon sounded out through the deck.

"Combat stations..." he muttered, sharing an anxious glance with the brunette.

Beth slid off the bed and gave him a fierce hug. "Please be careful, Tom!"

He patted her on the back. "Don't worry. I haven't been cleared for combat missions in the Claymore yet; I'll probably have to sit this one out."

She nodded, then glanced furtively at the door. "I'll stay here for a few minutes, then sneak out so I'm not spotted. I don't want to cause you any problems with Mace... or Anna."

As they separated he gave her a grateful smile. "I slept better than I have in weeks. Thanks, Beth... for being a good friend."

"I really do hope you and Anna can work things out," Beth said, looking up into his eyes. She bit her lip, then added softly, "But if you two do break up, I'll be there for you... okay?"

He leaned over and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek. "Okay... and thank you."

She let out a contented sigh, then waved Tom goodbye as he grabbed his helmet and rushed out the door.

***

Admiral Alexander Morgan settled into bed, the dramatic events of the late-night High Command meeting running through his mind. He'd previously assumed the new Fleet Admiral was an opportunistic political schemer and never for a moment suspected that Lynette would have the iron backbone to deal so harshly with open insubordination. It was one thing to have your enemies quietly removed from power, but to have them shot and dragged from a High Command meeting as an example to the Admiralty... that took real balls.

He shook his head as he realised he wasn't the only one that had grievously underestimated Fleet Admiral Devereux. The now disgraced Hugo Chapman would never have taken such a belligerent stance if he didn't think he could intimidate her into a U-turn on policy. Morgan vowed to himself that he'd never make the mistake of underestimating Lynette again.

The intercom chimed, the high-priority alert sounding gratingly loud in his quiet bedroom. Morgan lurched out of bed, glad for the distraction, and swiped his hand over the interface to accept the call.

The shocked face of the battleship Momus' Night Watch Commander filled the screen and Captain Martina Greco blurted out, "Admiral! We need you on the Bridge!"

Unsettled by her wide-eyed look of panic, he demanded, "Why? What's going on up there?!"

"It's the Brimorians, Sir! They've compromised the Sensor net! There's hundreds of ships parked right on the border!"

Morgan felt icy tendrils of fear shiver down his spine. "That's not possible! There must be some mistake!"

She shook her head frantically. "It's not a mistake! The Janus launched probes... They picked up at least three full Brimorian battle fleets!"

"My God..." Morgan whispered, his fear escalating to outright terror.

"Admiral? What are your orders?" Greco asked, her eyes darting away to stare in trepidation at the tactical map, before flicking back to the stunned admiral.

"Sound the retreat!" Morgan exclaimed, his heart hammering in his chest. "We need to regroup with Dacres and his advanced fleet!"

"Yes, Sir!" she exclaimed with a crisp salute.

"I'm on my way," he said, lurching to his feet. "And warn High Command!"

***

Shanryl floated in space beside the Terran Federation Comms Beacon, data jacks from her hacking deck connected to the internal network through an open maintenance panel. She cast her sharp eyes over the data scrolling across the holographic interface, her search filters locating the messages she was looking for. The communications had all been secured with the very best of T-Fed military encryption, but to a Maliri hacker of her aptitude, they might as well have not bothered.

"Nothing cleans like... Nova Clean," she sang softly, smirking to herself as she deleted all the correspondence between the traitor and the Brimorians.

Next to be deleted were a number of internal communications between vessels in the Terran Federation border fleet, further covering the traitor's tracks. Tapping an icon with a slender finger, Shanryl began to upload a series of incriminating new messages, all supposedly authored by the convenient scapegoat that would be taking the blame for the traitor's betrayal.

She glanced over the contents of the files, then shook her head with amusement. "Damn... he really hates your guts."

Once the data upload was complete, Shanryl performed a file deletion of the newly inserted post-dated messages. However, instead of the comprehensive Maliri scrubbing tool she'd just used to hunt down and eliminate all routed copies, this was a comparatively slapdash effort that could be easily reversed by any half-competent Terran computer specialist.

"And now the icing on the cake," Shanryl murmured, backdating transaction data to a new special bank account... padded with a very healthy balance. "The Brimorians are sparing no expense... although I doubt you'll appreciate it."

A crimson warning light illuminated the holo-interface, warning her that an Ultra-clearance alert was being routed through the Comms Beacon. Shanryl laughed as her interception software effortlessly blocked the message, then sent a notification back to Morgan's fleet that it had been successfully delivered.

Turning her attention back to the comms logs, the Lahlenori hacker continued her efforts to systematically demolish a man's life.

***

Tom sprinted down the corridor towards the Flight Deck, joining the scores of pilots responding to the klaxon calling the Janus' crew to battle stations. He recognised Anvil's imposing bulk amongst the shorter men and women surrounding him; the 6'6" giant towering a full head height above most of them.

"Anvil!" he called out, quickly catching up with the beefy pilot's lumbering jog.

The big wingman turned and nodded to him in acknowledgement. "Wraith... err, I mean... Walker."

Considering the name for a moment, Tom gave him a self-conscious smile. "Nah, it's okay. JJ told me she'd vetoed it for my callsign... but it could've been a lot worse."

Anvil slowed his pace and studied his smaller companion for a moment. "I'm not sure it fits any more... you seem different."

Tom nodded. "It was personal... but now I know what caused the problem, I can do something about it." They ran out onto the maintenance gantries, where pilots sprinted for their fighters. "Anvil, have you seen the Captain? I need to check if I'm cleared for combat duty on Claymores."

"Saddle up," a voice said from behind them, as Stony joined the two pilots.

Turning to look at his wing commander, Tom asked, "I haven't been officially certified in the Claymore yet, Sir."

Stony shrugged. "You're good enough... and I just got orders giving you clearance."

The last two members of their wing skidded to a halt beside the trio, having also spotted Anvil amongst the crowd of pilots.

Nooner yawned and rubbed at his eyes. "Damn fishboys... why'd they wait till it was sack time?"

"What's the sitrep, boss?" Red Fox asked, tying her long scarlet hair back into a pony tail.

"Objectives will be updated as soon as I get them," Stony said curtly, looking at each of them in turn. "Get to your ships, wait for the launch signal."

Glancing at Tom, Nooner raised an eyebrow and grinned. "You coming too, rookie?"

"Wraith's in slot two, next to Anvil," Stony interjected.

Nooner shook his head. "Err... I thought JJ nixed that callsign?"

"I'm good with it," Tom said, turning to look for his Claymore amongst the long rows of advanced fighters. With a self-deprecating smile, he added, "You came up with Wraith because I'm so deadly and terrifying, right?"

"Right!" Nooner said with a chuckle, slapping him on the shoulder.

Red Fox flashed Tom a broad grin as she dashed towards her Claymore. "You've got no excuses now, you'll have to come for that drink with us to celebrate getting your callsign!"

"Alright, count me in!" he replied, caught up by her infectious enthusiasm.

He spotted his fighter's tailcode amongst the row of strike craft, "HCJ-C-1482" embossed in white lettering against the grey titanium hull. The code identified that the Claymore-class fighter was assigned to the heavy carrier Janus and was the 1482nd modified gunship to leave the production lines at Olympus Shipyard.

Tom bounded down the metal gantry two steps at a time, then ran over to his blunt-nosed ship. He clambered up the steps to the wing, then ducked inside the airlock on the flank of the refitted heavy fighter and closed the door behind him. Pulling on his flight helmet, he slid into the comfortable pilot's chair and began pressing buttons to power up the Claymore's systems. Holo interfaces appeared as the console burst into life in front of him and his fighter linked in with the rest of his wing as their ships each came online.

Glancing at the launch status, Tom saw that it was still red, signifying that the launch tubes were currently sealed behind thick armour plating. He knew the Brimorians must have been planning an offensive after going to such lengths to disguise their fleet movements, so it was surprising that the Janus' squadrons weren't being launched into battle. He grasped the Claymore's flightstick and tried to control his pounding heartbeat as he waited for the call to action.

***

Wave Squire Talpo stared intently at the Tactical Map and tried not to chortle with glee. Now that the Brimorians had access to the Terran sensor grid, they were able to see all the Federation forces in great detail. The enemy were outnumbered three-to-one by the Brimorian fleets arrayed against them and when the battle commenced, the Enclave's victory over the Federation was all but guaranteed.

He counted twelve battleships, several heavy carriers, a dozen light carriers, and scores of cruisers in a defensive formation, all surrounded by a picket line of destroyers. Each vessel was tagged by its name and transponder code, giving him a perfect overview of the composition of the Terran fleet. As he studied the drab grey ships, he noticed a sudden flicker of movement that began to ripple out amongst the rest of the vessels. First the destroyers began to reposition themselves, then the cruisers broke formation, sweeping around towards the rear of the Federation fleet as the capital ships began to turn tail and pull away from the border.

"Shoal-Commander!" he called out, his voice trembling with excitement. "The Terran forces are on the move! It looks like they're fleeing!"

"What?!" Siolagon asked in surprise, rising from his command throne and striding over to the circular observation table. His black eyes narrowed as he surveyed the manoeuvring warships, then he nodded slowly. "It seems as though our skittish prey has spotted the Tarcaela eel in their midst..."

"Have they uncovered the traitor, Shoal-Commander?" Wave Squire Gulpos asked, looking up from his station.

Siolagon considered that for a moment, then his fins flickered nonchalantly. "They appear to be aware that their Sensor Grid is compromised, but it matters little either way." Turning to Talpo the big Brimorian asked, "What is our fleet's state of readiness?"

"Half of our cruisers are still in the process of refuelling," Talpo replied, looking apprehensive. "Should I order them to cease operations and prepare for combat?"

"No... order them to defend our support vessels. The reserve force can assist instead," Siolagon replied, before returning to his command throne. His scaly claws tapped several shell-like buttons on the armrest, then a fleet command interface appeared before him. "All ships in warfleet Ibhechae... begin pursuit of the Terran forces!"

The interface lit up with conch icons as the captain of each vessel acknowledged the order. Glancing at the Tactical Map, Siolagon saw that the Shoal-Commanders leading warfleets Braoimhi and Lebheth were following his lead, their ships quickly spreading out from their tight defensive formations. The Brimorian forces were outside the gravity well of the Beta Crusis system so were able to initiate hyper-warp as soon as the vessels had dispersed.

Siolagon smiled a toothy grin of satisfaction as he watched the Terran forces flee from the Alpha Crusis system, abandoning decades of encroachment into the Callopean Shoals.

***

Admiral Alexander Morgan rushed onto the Bridge of the battleship Momus, buttoning up his jacket as he strode to the Command Chair. "Give me an update, Captain!"

Turning in her chair, Martina Greco's face was fraught with tension. "We're being pursued, Admiral. All three Brimorian warfleets have entered the Federation annexation of the Callopean Shoals."

"Are they gaining on us?" he asked as he sat down, gripping the armrests tight to keep his hands from shaking.

"Matching speed," Greco replied sombrely. "That fits with intel on Enclave hyper-warp capabilities... thank God."

Morgan nodded his fervent agreement, his eyes flicking to the mass of blue and purple Brimorian vessels that were following in their wake. "Any sign of Dacres and his Advanced Fleet?"

"Nothing yet, Sir," she replied, bringing up the Sector Map. "But the Sensor Grid doesn't extend that far back into Terran Space. What's their ETA?"

"Devereux said 3:00 am," Morgan replied, before glancing at the chronometer, which read 12:36 am. "Goddamnit... he's still light years away."

"We'll reach Terran Space proper in... seven minutes," Greco said, studying their projected flightpath on the holographic map. "Do we hold at the border?"

Morgan stared at her incredulously and hissed under his breath, "Have you taken leave of your senses, Captain?" He jabbed a trembling finger at the pursuing alien warships. "We're outnumbered three-to-one... we don't stand a cat in hell's chance against a force that size!"

The brunette nibbled nervously on her nail as she darted an anxious glance at the crew, then leaned over to whisper, "But we'll be leaving the border completely exposed; there are colonised worlds only a couple of hours from here."

"I'm not throwing this fleet away in a futile sacrifice, no matter how noble the cause," Morgan snorted, shaking his head. "Our best chance of protecting those colonists is to retreat, regroup with reinforcements, then strike back at the Brimorians in force."

Conserving fleet assets until the Federation fleets had a fighting chance against the Brimorians, was a strategically sound decision. However, they both knew that retreating from the border exposed the nearest colonies to the risk of orbital bombardment, which would result in a terrible toll in civilian lives. The tremor of fear in Morgan's voice undermined his attempts to justify the retreat on strategic grounds.

Greco made eye-contact with him. "Can I request written confirmation of that order, Admiral?"

He glared at her, knowing she was making sure that any blame would be placed squarely on his shoulders. "Fine," he snapped curtly.

The Momus' captain sat back in her chair, her eyes drawn inexorably back to the Brimorian ships chasing them through the Callopean Shoals. According to predictions by the navigation computer, the Enclave forces were less than five minutes behind them, the time taken to leave Alpha Crusis' gravity well having cost the Terran forces dearly. She stared at the rows of Brimorian cruisers at the phalanx of their formation, then her gaze swept back to the much larger battleships that carried the real firepower in that force.