“Commander Rigellus, allow me to congratulate you on your victory in the recent campaign. It is officers like you who will lead the Alliance into the future.”

Katrine turned at the sound of the voice, shaking herself quickly from her thoughts. Her eyes fixed on the speaker, a man, old, his hair completely white. He leaned hard on a cane, and the dress uniform he wore was rumpled and ill-fitting, as if it hadn’t been out of his closet in many years. A flickering of familiarity stirred. He was a fleet commander, retired now of course. It took a few seconds for a name to surface…Commander-Altum Bacchallus. A man who had somehow managed to rise to a position of considerable power and prestige, despite an almost total lack of identifiable accomplishments. He was accompanied by a young woman, quite attractive, and at least forty years his junior.

A Prob, no doubt—or even a Pleb—seeking a path to citizenship in an old man’s bed…

Katrine held back a sigh and forced a smile to her face. “Commander-Altum, what a pleasure to see you, sir. Thank you for your kind words. You are most gracious.”

She nodded slightly, hoping the brief exchange of pleasantries would suffice. But, alas, it was not to be. The aged officer beamed back at her and launched into a retelling of one of his old campaigns, one she was sure was wildly embellished.

She listened quietly, politely. Her mind, so attuned to tactics, to maneuvers to get herself out of tough spots, failed her utterly. There was nothing to do but listen, and feign interest. She’d dealt with her share of “I remember whens” and “I knew your father back in the days,” but Bacchallus had a reputation for droning on endlessly.

And Kat knew she was going to get a good idea of how well that reputation was deserved…

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

CFS Dauntless

Approaching Archellia, Cassiopolis III

307 AC

“Archellia Control, this is the Confederation Fleet Ship Dauntless, requesting permission to approach.” Darrow spoke slowly and clearly into the comm system.

It took about eight seconds for his signal to reach the planet and the response to arrive. “Acknowledged, Dauntless. Please hold at the outer marker until we have completed our scan.”

Tyler Barron sat in the command chair of Dauntless’s bridge, listening to the exchange. He wanted to be surprised at the formality of the procedure, but he wasn’t. Archellia was a long way from the disputed border, and such precautions hardly seemed necessary. But war with the Union was imminent, and however far from Archellia the battlelines were likely to be, Confederation forces were on alert everywhere. No officer wanted to end up defending lax security procedures if something went wrong.

Not even in a backwater like Archellia. Not now.