Alarm of War, Book II: The Other Side of Fear

Alarm of War, Book II

The Other Side of Fear

By

Kennedy Hudner

Copyright © 2014 Kennedy Hudner

All Rights Reserved

Cover design by Kip Rich of Color Lake, Inc.

Maps by Deneika Janski

To Jennifer:

For thirty-eight years filled with laughter, exploration, children, patience and love. Thank you for your support, even if you did drive a hard bargain about which characters had to be kept alive.

And to think it all began a long time ago with a ‘hello’ on the sidewalk.  Such a tiny, wondrous thing to change our lives.

And in loving memory of Flossie Hudner and Harold Hudner, two shining examples of grace, caring and kindness.  This world is poorer without them.

Acknowledgements

I have a lot of people to thank for helping me with this book.  First, as always, for their patient encouragement, valuable critiques and occasional pointed reviews, my wife, Jennifer and my two sons, Joshua and Daniel.  But the pleasant surprise for me this time around was the friendly nagging from my readers, who politely pestered me to learn when this book would be ready.  I cheerfully co-opted some of them, asking them to read unfinished copies of the manuscript for Book II, which several did with good humor and grace and very helpful comments.  My special thanks to Mike Strong, Forrest Janson and Bengt Thuree for their comments and encouragement.

Numerous others have offered encouragement and given me helpful suggestions, including Beth and Bruce Hillson, Joan and Mike Mastromonaco, Michele and Craig Fontaine, Beth Hillson (the
other
one), and two old college roommates, Scott Kaeser and John Mello.

And a particularly heartfelt thank you to Don Kray, who willingly took on the task of proofing the entire manuscript before he learned what a terrible typist I am.

If there is anyone I’ve forgotten, my apologies, but for the many people who wrote kind reviews, encouraging emails and even called to introduce themselves, you have my sincere appreciation.

Writing the second book of a trilogy is daunting.  I’ve read too many “middle books” that do little to either grow the characters or move the plot forward in an interesting and engaging way.  I didn’t want to do that to my readers – or characters, for that matter – and it made creating the plot and developing the characters painstaking and, sometimes, intimidating. 

I think I got it right but, as always, you will be the final judge.

Kennedy Hudner

November 3, 2014

This is a science fiction book, set far in the future.  All of the characters are fictional and come from the fevered imagination of my mind.  Any resemblance to any real person, living or dead, is not intended and is entirely coincidental.  If you think you see yourself in this book, take the nearest spaceship to Fleet Headquarters on the planet Cornwall in the Victorian Sector and consult a therapist.

Cast of Characters

Refuge
– home world, Haifa

Tarek Allali – Production Minister

Aicha Eitan – second mother of Rafael Eitan

Amin Eitan -               father of Rafael Eitan

Danny Eitan – father of Rafael Eitan

Hakima Eitan – third mother of Rafael Eitan

Leila Eitan – birth mother of Rafael Eitan

Nouar Eitan - sister of Rafael Eitan

Rafael Eitan – Captain, Refuge Special Reconnaissance Force

Yael Eitan -   father of Rafael Eitan

Aamir Fareed Khan – Foreign Minister

David Lior - Captain (retired) Refuge Gunboat Squadron

Sergeant Maimon – Refuge Special Reconnaissance Force

Admiral Haim Razon – Commandant of the Refuge Coast Guard

Yisrael Tal – Prime Minister

Avi Yaffe – Wing Commander, stationed on carrier
Haifa

Rahim Zar, captain of the Refuge carrier,
Rabat

Eliana Zohar – Minister, Refuge Defense Force and liaison to Victorian Fleet

Victoria
– home world, Cornwall

Queen Anne - daughter of Queen Beatrice (deceased)

Balek - Specialist, Beach Ball Controller

Ben-Ami Behrman - the
Laughing Owl’s
Drone Chief

Fatima Binissa – Sensors Officer,
Laughing Owl

Hiram Brill – Commander, Victorian Fleet

Mariella Cocchi – Specialist, Beach Ball Controller

Alyce Douthat - Admiral, Commander of Victorian Home Fleet 

James Eder – Captain, Battleship
Lionheart, 
Victorian Home Fleet

Master Chief George Gibson - Sensors Officer,
Rabat

Dennie Hod –  Communications Officer,
Laughing Owl

Forrest Janson - pilot,
Laughing Owl

Avi Lani – Assistant Engineer,
Laughing Owl

Max Opinsky – Civilian Chief of Operations, Atlas Space Station

Tobias Partridge – Seaman, communications specialist,
Rabat

Ayala Perl – Captain,
Fish Owl

Lori Romano - Ensign (Artificial Intelligence Systems)

Alexander Rudd – Lt. Commander, Victorian Fleet
 

Maria “Cookie” Sanchez -  Sergeant, Victorian Royal Marines and prisoner of Dominion

Karen Selby – Captain,
Barn Owl

Bill Satore – Fleet Specialist 4 who builds training systems Dafna Simon - Assistant Drone Chief,
Laughing Owl

Dafna Simon -  Drone Pilot,
Laughing Owl

Grant Skiffington - Lt. Commander, Victorian Fleet

Dov Tamari -  Colonel, Fleet Marines in Long Range Reconnaissance

Bengt Thuree – Captain,
Horned Owl

Sir Henry Truscott  - advisor for the Royal Family

Emily Tuttle -  Commander, Victorian Fleet

Livy Wexler - Sensor’s Officer for the
Haifa

Martha Wilkinson, M.D.  – Rear Admiral and Fleet Senior Surgeon

Otto Wisnioswski - Private, Fleet Marines and prisoner of the Dominion

Sadia Zahiri – Captain,
Laughing Owl –
long range reconnaissance
vessel

Non-humans

Merlin, Max, Mildred and Gandalf – Artificial Intelligence systems used by Victoria

Dominion of Unified Citizenry:  home world - Timor

Fritz Bauer, Captain, battleship
Fortitude

Astrid Drechsher – Captain, frigate
Draugr

Michael Hudis - Chief Advisor to Citizen Director

Scott Kaeser – Admiral and  commander of Second Task Force attacking Victoria.  Ship is the Dominion Battleship
Fortitude

Anthony Nasto - Citizen Director

Reynart Wagner – Admiral, Commander of Timor’s planetary defense forces

Tilleke: home world – Qom

Emperor Chalabi

Prince RaShahid – son of Emperor Chalabi

Map of Human Space

             
Everything you’ve ever wanted is on the other side of fear.

– George Addair

Prologue

On the Dominion Prison Ship
Tartarus

She killed the first man who came to rape her.

He was a big man, heavily muscled with a tattoo of a large serpent twining around his chest.  He thought he would simply push her to the floor of the cell and take her as he pleased, and seemed faintly amused when she stood to fight him.  He liked a little struggle, it added spice.  And truth be told, he liked them a little bloody when he took them.  A feral grin stretched across his face.

It never occurred to him that Cookie might be as dangerous as he was.

She waited on balanced feet, breathing slowly.  He was such a big bastard that she knew she would only get one chance, but she also knew that he would give it to her.
             

Grinning, he stepped forward, arms still by his sides, contemptuous of her threat. 
Gods of Our Mothers, your daughter thanks you,
she prayed, and when he reached for her, instead of pulling back as he expected, she stepped forward and struck snake fast, spearing her fingers deep into his eye sockets, twisting as she drove them knuckle-deep.  He shrieked in agony, but when he raised his hands to his face, she spun him into the wall, grasped his head in her arms and twisted and then kicked out his legs.

Gravity did the rest.

And as quick as that, it was done.

She stepped back, sucking in a deep breath.  “Havin’ fun now!” she shouted defiantly, knowing they had a vid watching her.  Soon she heard the sound of feet pounding down the corridor, coming to her cell.   She resigned herself to what was to come.  If she was very, very lucky, they would kill her.

Chapter 1

In the Refuge Sector

The meeting was held on the patio of the Palais Amanjena, on the shoulder of the Atlas Mountains.  The view was astonishing.  To the south they could see Tinjdad and beyond it, arid desert.  To the north and west, the snow-capped Atlas range rose to the heavens, while to the east lay Kiryat Arba, the farming town that eventually became the Refuge capital, with its four rivers and plentiful water, surrounded by a wide expanse of irrigated farmland.  It was, the manager said proudly, the most commanding view in the entire region.

Not that any of them noticed.

“The good news is that we have almost thirty combat effective ships, plus a handful more that can be repaired.”  Admiral Douthat repressed a grimace.  Her definition of “combat effective” had taken a drastic change since the war began. Now any ship with more than four working missiles tubes, a couple of lasers and the crew to man them counted as combat effective. They had arrived at Refuge one month earlier, fleeing an overwhelming surprise attack by the Dominions.  The Dominions had captured the Victorian home planet, Cornwall and had killed Queen Beatrice.   Only good luck had saved Princess (now Queen) Anne, who had been visiting the space station Atlas.  The Home Fleet had commandeered every tugboat in Victorian space to pull the Atlas through the wormhole to safety in Refuge, but that safety was tenuous at best.

In the last month, the Dominion had hurled three attacks through the wormhole.  Home Fleet, beefed up by the Refuge gunboats and forts, had beaten them back, but at a cost.  One of the Refuge forts had been destroyed and the other had been badly damaged.  Scores of the powerful but fragile gunboats had been lost, and although the Victorians had not lost any more ships, they were all damaged to one extent or another.

“The bad news,” Douthat continued, “is that the Dominions have us effectively bottled up.  We cannot break through the wormhole to Victoria without sustaining unacceptable losses.”  Which wasn’t saying much, she knew.  At this point the loss of even a handful of ships was unacceptable.  “They cannot get in either, at least not without horrendous losses.  So, for the moment, stalemate.”

“And Atlas?” Captain Eder of the battleship
Lionheart
asked.

“Atlas came through without a scratch,” Douthat replied.  “Even now it is repairing our damaged ships.”

“Thank the Gods for that,” someone muttered.

Queen Anne looked down the table, wondering if she looked as tired as everyone else.   At twenty, she was the youngest person in the room, but the responsibilities she had assumed after her mother’s death lay heavy and the tired and drawn faces around her mirrored her inner exhaustion.  Not that she had any intention of letting them know that. 

“So when can we break out and retake Cornwall?”

A silence fell over the table.  Admiral Douthat and Captain Eder exchanged uneasy glances.  Opinsky, the facilities manager of Atlas, shifted in his seat.   Prime Minister Tal and the Refuge Production Minister, Tarek Allali, pursed their lips and avoided looking at the Queen.

“Well?” the Queen demanded.  “The Dominion are out there, ladies and gentlemen. We can’t defeat them from Refuge.”

The silence awkwardly continued.  Queen Anne sighed.   “I cannot make reasoned decisions if my advisors are afraid of giving me unpleasant news,” she said.  She looked at each of them in turn.  At length, she turned to face Admiral Douthat.  “Admiral, I have designated you as First Sea Lord.  Was I incorrect in that promotion?”

“Majesty,” Admiral Douthat said.  “The problem is that even with Atlas’s production capacity, we will not be able to produce enough warships to break through the wormhole back into Victorian space if the Dominion reinforces the wormhole entrance.  We need to either find additional shipyard capacity from Refuge or-“

“Or find an ally in addition to Refuge,” Sir Henry interrupted, “another nation that already has a navy and will be willing to dedicate it to our support in the coming battles.”

“There is a chance that we can break through, Your Majesty,” said Captain Eder, captain of the Victorian Fleet’s only remaining battleship.

“An unacceptable risk!” Douthat said, glaring at Captain Eder.  “If we lose too many ships fighting our way into Victoria, we are finished.  The Dominions would hound us back into Refuge and finish us once and for all.”  She threw up her hands in frustration.  “We aren’t strong enough.  We need time to build up our forces.”

The Queen glanced at Opinsky, the Facilities Manager.  “Mr. Opinsky, can you quantify the production issues for me?” 

Opinsky, who looked slovenly at the best of times, hadn’t shaved in several days.  He rubbed his whiskers with one hand.  “Well, Majesty, it’s like this.  Atlas’s got three shipyards large enough to build warships, but only one of ‘em is large enough to build a battleship.  Assuming we got enough materials – and we don’t, least not yet – we can build a destroyer every three or four weeks, depending on the electronics we put in it.  That’s per yard, mind you, so theoretically, we could build three destroyers every month.

“But the shipyards aren’t all at the same level of technology.  As we added them on, each one was bigger and more sophisticated, so while the first yard can’t build a cruiser at all, only destroyers, the second yard can build destroyers or cruisers, but not battleships.  So we can build a cruiser every eight weeks, and during that time we can probably build two destroyers with the remaining yard.”

“And battleships?” the Queen asked.

Opinsky shook his head.  “We can only build battleships in the newest yard, one every three months if we’re lucky.  More like one every four months, depending on resources, which includes not only raw materials, but finished parts, electronics and trained personnel to do the actual building.”

“You haven’t mentioned frigates,” Queen Anne noted.

More glances were exchanged.  “The fact that none of the frigates survived the first battles suggests to me that we should not waste our time and resources building any more of them,”  Sir Henry said flatly.

“I’m afraid Sir Henry is correct, majesty,” Admiral Douthat chimed in.  “Frigates simply cannot survive in battles this intense.  But we must not forget the Refuge gunboats.  Refuge is building four gunboats a week.  As the old Earth generals were fond of saying, quantity has a quality all of its own.  Under the right tactical conditions, the gunboats can be very effective.”  The gunboats were small and fired two missiles each, but they did not have the fuel capacity for a long distance strike and were hideously vulnerable to enemy fire.  So yes, they could be effective, but everyone at the table knew their losses had been terrible.

“And crews to man all these ships?” asked Sir Henry.  “Is there a pool of trained personnel?”

“We will find the crews,” Prime Minister Tal assured him.  Queen Anne noticed the sharp glance he received from Foreign Minister Khan, but let it pass for the moment. The troubles she already had were sufficient unto the day, she thought ruefully.

“We need to attack now, before the Ducks build up their defenses at the wormhole,” Captain Eder repeated.

“And I’ve already told you that won’t work,” Douthat said, giving Eder another black look.  “We can’t risk everything on one throw of the dice!”

“We have to,” Eder retorted,  “or we’ll be trapped here.”

“We need to secure another ally,” Sir Henry said, repeating his theme.  “We need to open up a second front.”

“Enough!”  Queen Anne held up a hand to stop them.  The table fell into a sullen silence.

“Four weeks ago,” the Queen reminded them, “we were running for our lives with the entire Dominion navy nipping at our heels.”  She swept her gaze around the table, forcing by sheer will each participant to look at her and listen.  “Today we are trying to decide how best to go about defeating them.  I would rather have today’s problems than those of yesterday.”  She stood up.  Two of her personal armsmen fell in beside her.  “These are my orders.  First, all of you are to immediately go to bed and sleep for at least eight hours.  You are barely on your feet and it impedes your thinking.  Second, we will reconvene tomorrow at this time.  I want two plans of action and an analysis of the pros and cons of each.”  She smiled at them.  “I bid you good night, ladies and gentlemen.”

Hiram Brill was waiting for her in the hallway outside the meeting room.  He fell in beside her as she walked briskly to the suite set aside for her by the resort owner, a tiny, dapper little man of Moroccan descent who assured her that it was an honor to have the great-granddaughter of the famous King Adolf staying at his humble resort.  Brill walked in silence.  Since the loss of his girlfriend, captured on the Dominion battleship
Vengeance
, Brill had been quiet and solemn.  Queen Anne had worried that he was slipping into depression.   But then she learned that every day Brill personally went through all of the reconnaissance drone reports from the Victorian sector and she realized that he was hunting for any information concerning Cookie – a ridiculous name for a grown woman, she thought, and a Fleet Marine to boot.  Brill wasn't depressed, she decided, just very, very intent, as if all of the humor and brightness had been scoured out of him by events.   Well, whatever Brill’s emotional state was, as long as his preoccupation didn't interfere with his duties to her, she wished him well.

"You listened in?" she asked, knowing that he had.  She had ordered him to.

"Yes," he replied.

"Captain Eder wants to attack immediately.  Admiral Douthat says any attack is doomed unless we significantly build up our Fleet strength, and Sir Henry says we need allies.  God alone knows how long that will take."  She glanced at him.  "Does that about sum it up?"

"Yes."

Princess Anne forcefully blew out air and pushed her hair back in exasperation.  "Commander, I would rather appreciate one of your moments of 'great clarity' right about now."

They were almost at the Queen's suite.  Hiram stopped abruptly and wheeled on the Queen.  The two armsmen stopped as well, tensing involuntarily but doing nothing.  They were still getting used to Brill's eccentricities and manfully refrained themselves from slamming him up against the wall and sticking a gun under his chin.  It had happened before.  The Queen had gotten rather stern over that incident.

Hiram held up three fingers.  "First," he said, waggling one finger, "you need to understand that each of them is correct, but they have the timing wrong. 

“Second" – he waggled two fingers –"to accomplish anything, we need to find the location of the shipyard where the Dominion built their secret fleet. It is the key to everything.  Once we destroy it, the Dominions will be strategically crippled, unable to replace their losses.  But – and this is a very big ‘but’ – the big problem is how to find it.  I know it exists – it
has
to exist - but the Dominions have it tucked away somewhere far, far off the normal shipping routes.  I think there is a way to find it, but to do it we are going to need The Light."  He waggled a third finger.  “And that is the third item.  Whatever other allies we find, we need to ally with The Light.  They have the best intelligence network and we need it.”

"The Light?" Queen Anne asked, arching one eyebrow.

Hiram nodded.  "Yes, Your Majesty, and I would greatly appreciate it if you did not play games with me when I am trying to help you."

Anne glanced at the two armsmen.  Neither John nor Betty looked at her, but kept their attention focused on the hallway, scanning for threats.  They were uncomfortable having their Queen on the planet and would have been much happier back on Atlas.

"Come," she told Hiram, and went into her suite.  A tea service was already laid out and the Queen poured a cup and handed it to Hiram.  He sniffed appreciatively.  Refuge grew its own tea in huge plantations on the slopes of the Atlas Mountains.  The tea reminded him of Darjeeling tea from Old Earth.

"Any word on Maria?"  she asked.  She never called her ‘Cookie.’

"You're changing the subject, Majesty, which you do whenever you want to avoid answering questions about your relationship to The Light."  He sipped his tea.  "I haven’t figured it out entirely yet, but The Light are key players in this little drama of ours.  The Light tried to warn us about the Dominion and the Tilleke, but Admiral Teehan didn't think it was credible.  Later on, The Light warned us that the wormhole to Refuge would move, and gave us very precise information on exactly when and how far it would move, which is rather remarkable when you think about it."  He looked at her searchingly over the rim of his tea cup.

"I think that you have a relationship with The Light, something that Admiral Teehan did not know about."  He paused, considering.  "Something that maybe even Sir Henry does not know about.  Something high level..."  His voice trailed off and his face went momentarily slack.  Anne had seen this before and waited patiently.  Abruptly, his face reanimated.

"The only thing that makes sense is if The Light had been in regular contact with Queen Beatrice and now that you are Queen of Victoria, with you.  But why?"  He stopped, puzzled.

Anne shook her head.  "You have a most distressing habit of wandering into things that are best kept private, Commander," she said.  She paused, uncertain of whether to go on, but then plunged ahead:  "It's Brother Jong.  Before I left Cornwall to go to the Atlas, I met with Jong.  Mother was too ill to take best advantage of his information any longer, so I asked him to provide
me
with the information he would have given to her."