The Bakarian Rebellion

By W. H. Cann

Both Dave Jackson and Michael Allen, two of the best fighter pilots in the Confederation, are hiding a secret that is directly affecting the war against the Rebellion

Both pilots are living a lie, behaving in a way that is contrary to their beliefs and loyalty. Dave acts in an arrogant, rebellious, and insubordinate manner, a means to fulfilling his duty: His secret. Michael acts the loyal citizen, aiming to succeed, gain promotion and a good reputation in Confed.

Dave is suffering psychological stress far more than his friend for two reasons: First, he knows his friend’s secret, which is tearing him apart, because he views it as a betrayal of their friendship. Second, his ‘acting’ is preventing him from being who he really needs to be, but what really lies behind his behaviour. Will Dave buckle under the pressure when events take a turn for the worst, or will he fulfil what is expected of him when his loyalty is put to the ultimate test?

• Language: English
• Publisher: W. H. Cann
• Release date: Feb 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370161027

W. H. Cann

I am an indie author of science fiction and fantasy novels. I live in Pembrokeshire, Wales, am married with two children, and three grandchildren.I have served with the Royal Air Force as a dual trade aircraft engineer after completing a 3 year apprenticeship, run my own business for several years until a back injury prevented me from continuing, and then entered the world of finance. I am currently employed as a Local Government Finance Officer.I have been a passionate reader since early childhood, but was introduced to the fantasy genre at the age of 10 when my father gave me some Conan books and the Thongor of Lemuria series by Lin Carter. I did not actually start writing until my mid thirties, after injuring my back and was off work for a while. It was then that I first penned the drafts of the Science Fiction series The Guardians, followed by the fantasy series The Chronicles of Ferantiana.My favourite activities other than writing are walking, reading, researching family history, watching classic British Sitcoms, good dramas and films, and listening to music.W. H. Cann

Book preview

The Bakarian Rebellion

W. H. Cann

W.H. Cann asserts the moral right to

be identified as the author of this work

Copyright 2015 W. H. Cann

Published by W. H. Cann

Fourth Edition January 2024

Cover Illustration W. H. Cann

Copyright 2021 W. H. Cann

All Rights Reserved

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, or organisations are entirely coincidental.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Contents

Title

Copyright

Contents

Chapter 01

Chapter 02

Chapter 03

Chapter 04

Chapter 05

Chapter 06

Chapter 07

Chapter 08

Chapter 09

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Epilogue

Books by W. H. Cann

Chapter One

Admiral, the sensors are all clear, said the lieutenant looking over his shoulder as the admiral walked past him.

Admiral Deenar sighed lightly, nodded his acknowledgement and continued heading for the forward viewport. Even though the routine patrol of the Marlinet Sector had been without incident, he still experienced a certain degree of frustration because of it. There had been rumours circulating the Confederation, worrying rumours about a rebellion, but Deenar was dubious about their validity. The planet Bakari was in the adjacent Felinor sector, and was only six days travel at FTL, a little too close for Deenar’s comfort.

The bridge was quiet, too quiet, not that it was unusual. They were not at war, simply undertaking a routine patrol of the sector. The only sounds to be heard were those of operators tapping away at their keyboards and screens, the hum of computers and operational systems, and footsteps of officers and crew as they carried out their duties.

Deenar stopped at the viewport, his legs slightly apart, his hands clasped lightly behind his back. He gazed at the stars and planets in his field of view. He never tired of looking into space, preferring life onboard a cruiser to living on a planet. There were too many painful memories that were always brought to the forefront of his mind when he stepped foot on a planet, so he avoided doing so as much as was possible.

He had served as a naval officer for thirty five years and as an admiral for ten of those years. He doubted a promotion to fleet admiral would come his way, not with eight other admirals with time seniority over him, not that he was overly concerned about it. What he was concerned about, and was not looking forward to, was having to step down from commanding a vessel and spend the last ten years of active service in command headquarters. The mere thought made him shudder.

Deenar longed for something exciting to happen. He did not want a war, just something to test his command ability, and the effectiveness of the crews manning the ships under his current command. The last conflict he had fought in was the war against the Corsantars ten years ago, and where he had earned his promotion to admiral. He had been a captain on board a dreadnought battle cruiser back then. Now he command Beta Squadron of the Calsoan Fleet from the assault carrier class battle cruiser Panther.

He was one of two admirals in the Calsoan Fleet, the other being Admiral Kindal, both serving under Admiral of the Fleet Paulson whose flag was on the Hellfire, a dreadnought carrier class battle cruiser. Admiral Kindal was currently patrolling the Salora System on the far side of the sector, and the Hellfire was undergoing a minor refit in the Narderia ship yards.

Deenar glanced at his watch and sighed lightly. It was time to leave the Spenari System and head for the rendezvous point where Alpha Squadron of the Calsoan Fleet should be awaiting their arrival. He turned and faced the command centre. Prepare for FTL. Recall all fighters and scout ships. We leave the system in fifteen minutes. Pilot, set course for the Spenari System.

The ship’s pilot looked up. Course already laid in and set, Admiral.

All stations and ships advised of deployment, said the FTL systems officer.

Deenar walked to his command chair, sat and rotated to face his command crew while he waited for the signal that all ships had landed and were locked down in readiness for FTL.

Time seemed to pass very slowly.

Admiral, all fighters have landed. Estimate is five minutes to full readiness for FTL.

The admiral was not an impatient man by nature, nor did he get impatient very easily, but for reasons he was unable to fathom, he found having to wait another five minutes made him anxious and his patience wore thin.

Admiral, long ranges sensors have detected a distortion at one thousand miles, bearing one-five-seven, declared one of the sensor operators. Indications are that we have ships dropping out of FTL.

Confirmed, Admiral. Seven battle cruisers and two frigates have just dropped out of FTL, designations,…. The second sensor operator stopped mid sentence, his mouth ajar and his eyes wide in shock.

Well, Lieutenant, what ships are they? demanded the admiral.

I don't believe it, Admiral. It’s the Eltara Fleet.

What in damnation is Admiral Holderness doing here? Deenar was shocked. The last deployment plans indicated the Eltara Fleet would be patrolling the Galfine Sector.

Admiral, cruisers are confirmed as the Annihilator, Intrepid, Vanguard, Voyager, Delayn, Carlton, and the Adrienne, plus the frigates Swordfish and Griffin.

Open a comms channel to the Annihilator, Lieutenant Perves.

Perves activated the comms system. No response, Admiral.

Damn! what are they playing at.

Admiral, the Eltara fleet is moving into attack position and blocking our flight trajectory.

All ships are to raise alert status to one and take up defensive formation.

The Annihilator has launched four capital ship torpedoes and deployed eight fighter squadrons, Admiral, said Lieutenant Goldern, his voice betraying his shock. Damn, the Intrepid has also launched four torpedoes.

All cruisers of the Eltara Fleet are deploying fighter squadrons, Admiral, and are heading this way in attack formation, said Lieutenant Wallis.

Lieutenant Perves, advise High Command of the situation. Lieutenant Oldarin, command to all cruisers: Deploy fighters, charge all cannons, activate torpedo tracking systems, prime launchers and target enemy cruisers. Launch torpedoes when locks are secured, and open fire with cannons when in range. He sighed heavily, hoping fate was on their side.

The bridge was a hive of activity. Deenar watched his crew as they undertook their duties efficiently and swiftly, and acknowledged each officer as they informed him of their actions.

Admiral Deenar now had the excitement he craved, but to be attacked by one of their own fleets was beyond imagining.

All ships have launched fighters, Admiral. The Annihilator and Intrepid have been targeted and torpedoes launched. Other cruisers are being targeted accordingly.

Forward batteries are fully charged and waiting to open fire. We will be in range in two minutes.

The speed at which his crew had reacted to the change of alert status was as expected. He just hoped it was fast enough. Although he had trained his crews to be always prepared and expect the unexpected, even during times of peace, nothing tested one’s competence as good as being taken by surprise.

‘So, the rumours must be true,’ he mused. ‘The Bakarians have indeed started a rebellion against the Confederation.’ What shocked Deenar more than anything was that Admiral Holderness had obviously betrayed the Confederation, defected to the rebel forces and attacked the regime he had sworn to defend.

With a heavy sigh, Deenar gazed out of the viewport to see his fighter squadrons heading for battle, and then watch with baited breath as both sides opened fire.

Lieutenant Perves, open a channel to the Annihilator.

Yes Admiral. Moments later he glanced over his shoulder. They’re not responding Admiral.

Deenar activated the comms unit at his station. Admiral Holderness, this is Admiral Deenar of the Confederation cruiser Panther. I find it hard to believe you could be so easily deceived, turn your back on those you once fought with, and all you had sworn to uphold and defend. I know you can hear me, Iain, and I hope you can live with yourself after engaging in this travesty, this act of treachery. The rebellion will not achieve what you hope it will. It will bring nothing but death and destruction.

The comms system remained silent, but Deenar knew they were listening. There was a distinct difference in the silence between communications systems that were switched on and being listened to, and switched off.

Deenar closed the channel and sighed. He gazed round the bridge. All of the crew were busy and yet he could tell they were shocked and surprised by the turn of events. This was the first major attack on a Confederation fleet in ten years, and the repercussions would be felt across the galaxy.

He turned to face the forward viewing port as sadness engulfed him.

The battle was intense, fighters exploded and pilot modules ejected into the maelstrom. Then the dreadnought and assault class battle cruisers Splinter and Alemon from the Calsoan Fleet exploded in massive fireballs, sending debris in all directions and taking out numerous starfighters that were in close proximity.

Deenar knew they were outnumbered and outgunned. He felt his cruiser shudder as a torpedo struck and exploded. There was little hope of escape now, even if he wanted to attempt it. Then a second torpedo hit, the explosion tearing through the engines and associated systems.

He shook his head and sighed, knowing what was about to happen. He had no regrets and no family to grieve over his loss. Deenar had served with distinction and had always been a fully committed service officer, and now gave his life for what he had believed in: The Nasar Galactic Confederation.

Deenar closed his eyes and calmed his soul.

Ten minutes later, it was all over, and the remaining cruisers of the Eltara fleet commenced salvaging operations.

Chapter Two

Four Years Later

Gold Squadron, it’s time to break formation and engage the enemy, ordered Gold-One.

Breaking formation now, replied Gold-Two. Alright Mike, let’s show these rebels they’ve picked the wrong squadron to mess with.

They’ll wish they’d never been born, said Gold-Three. You lead the way and I’ll be following close on your wing.

Flight Commander David Jackson, call-sign Gold-Two, and Flight Commander Michael Allen, call sign Gold-Three, broke formation and accelerated to attack speed. Their primary target was the squadron of fighters that had just been deployed from the Bakarian cruiser Devastator, one of the vessels they had been trying to locate for over a year.

Dave put the general communications channel on mute and opened the inter-ship system he had installed in his and Michael’s fighters. Stay tight Mike. This is going to be hair-raising stuff.

You bet it will Dave. I bet they’ll break first.

‘I sure hope they do, or this’ll be a very short flight,’ thought Dave as the enemy squadron closed in fast, but he knew they would break the moment he opened fire. They always did. In all his years of combat, not one squadron had ever called his bluff and remained on course.

Gold-Two, what do think you’re doing? demanded the squadron commander.

What you ordered us to do, Sir, replied Dave. I’m taking the fight to the enemy and intend wreaking some pure havoc.

Don’t get clever with me, pilot.

No Sir, but if we hit ‘em fast and hit ‘em hard, we’ll soon have these Bakarian rebels on the run.

There was a moment of silence. Not if you get killed before the battle really starts.

No chance of that, Sir.

Alright Gold-Two, you show ‘em we mean business, but I’ll have your hide if you fail.

If I fail, Sir, it’s because I’m dead. Dave changed communications channels again. Alright Mike, you heard him. You’d better watch my back or I’m for the chop.

Mike laughed. Watch your back? I’ll be lucky to keep up with you.

Dave checked the status of his weapons, shields, and other systems, then took a deep breath. ‘Here goes,’ he mouthed quietly. Resetting the targeting computer, Dave waited for the oncoming enemy squadron to close in, with him and the lead fighter flying head-to-head. ‘Fool!’ he mouthed silently and then opened fire with a full salvo, followed by another two in quick succession.

He smiled as he watched the enemy fighter pull up, but he was too slow. Dave’s multiple salvos struck the fighter along the underside of the fuselage, burned through the shielding and tore through the structure. Moments later, it exploded, showering the ships alongside in debris. Dave dived below as the rest of the Bakarian squadron scattered, hopped on to the tail of another ship and opened fire, raking the ship along the underside of his port wing and rear section of fuselage. The fighter lost power and collided with another of his squadron.

Great shooting Gold-Two, roared Mike.

Thanks Gold-Three. I’ll just take out this one and you can take the lead. Dave banked hard to port to follow the one his targeting computer had locked on to. After a few elaborate manoeuvres during which he got dangerously close to the enemy fighter, Dave opened fire with one full salvo before pulling up hard and banking to starboard. The enemy ship split apart and then exploded.

Damn it Dave, that’s three in less than five minutes, exclaimed Mike. Before he knew what was happening, Dave had pulled an aggressive loop, rolled, and drew alongside his friend.

It’s these rookie pilots the Bakarians have recruited; they’re just too green to be put up against the likes of Gold Squadron.

Michael snorted. Yeah, they would send the boys out first, test what we’ve got, and then match us with their best.

Dave laughed. Even their best will be no match for us. We’re destined to win this war. You mark my words, Mike; we’ll be celebrating our victory in no time.

Don’t get too cocky, Gold-Two, said Gold-One. We may be the best, but it doesn’t guarantee victory. There’s a lot to be achieved yet, and not only against the Bakarian fleet.

Dave resisted making a further comment in response. Alright Mike, go get one for yourself and I’ll watch your wing.

Heads up Gold Squadron, the Devastator has just launched another twelve fighters, said Gold-One.

Yeah, so what! blurted Dave without thinking. We’ll deal with them in due course, unless of course fighter command deploys more of our own to support us in the meantime.

Moments after the last word left his mouth, Admiral Irvann ordered the deployment of two additional fighter squadrons, thus tipping the balance back in the Confederation’s favour.

Seems as if the Admiral can read your mind, Gold-Two.

Cut the chatter Gold-Three, ordered Squadron Commander Tarran. If you focussed on your fighting as much as you do your talking, you’d be undefeatable.

Thanks for the compliment, Sir. I’ll bear that in mind.

Dave laughed. Okay Gold-Three, are you gonna show us what you’re capable of before that other squadron of rebels joins the fun?

I sure am Dave, he boasted as he banked to port and dropped on to the tail of a Bakarian fighter. The enemy began evasive manoeuvres hoping to lose him, but Mike matched him with ease. ‘This pilot’s good, but not good enough,’ he mused as his targeting computer secured a lock.

A few seconds later, he pressed the trigger and the enemy fighter exploded, showering his own ship with debris. Yes! Notch one up for me boys, he roared delightedly.

Cut the chatter Gold-Three and focus on the job. There’s too many to waste time teasing ‘em, said Gold-One.

Michael closed the primary comms channel and opened the personal comm link between his and Dave’s ship. Doesn’t he ever ease off?

Dave laughed. When you’re as good as Tarran you can do and say what you want. Until then you’d better bag a few more kills and quickly. Oh yeah, and save your missiles. We’ll need ‘em shortly.

You got it Dave. Michael saw his chance to take out another enemy without wasting too much time. With his friend close on his starboard wing, he gave chase and took a few shots to test his target.

After another five minutes of intense combat, the two pilots notched up another seven kills between them, and had managed to close the distance between them and the Devastator.

Alright Mike, are you ready to teach these rebels a serious lesson on how to fight?

You bet I am. You lead and I’ll cover your wing, close enough to feel the heat from your lasers.

Dave laughed. You’d better keep tighter than that buddy, ‘cos this is gonna be one hell of a ride, he said as he accelerated to full throttle.

Maybe for the rest of the squadron, but we were born for this.

Dave checked the shield and weapon status, nodded absently and set course for their intended target. He took no note of his friend’s position, he did not have to. His focus was on the cruiser, the fighter screen they would have to pass through, and the intensifying barrage of cruiser laser bolts being directed at them.

Gold-Two, Gold-Three, alter course and re-join the main battle away from the enemy cruiser.

Flight Commander Jackson barrel-rolled, dived below a group of four enemy fighters, and then banked to starboard to line up with his target. Michael was flying close on his tail, so close it looked as if the two ships were attached. They were too committed to the attack, and to break free now would mean certain death.

Negative Gold-One. It’s too late for that. He switched off the comms system, rechecked all weapons were charged and operational, and steadied his breathing. Making minor alterations to his flight path, Dave managed to evade all but two of the cruiser’s laser bolts. Fortunately, they only skimmed his ship, the powerful shields having deflected most of the energy.

The seconds ticked by and the cruiser loomed before them, growing ever larger, a target hard to miss, and extremely difficult to damage unless you knew their weaknesses. The targeting computer locked on. Dave held his breath. He knew his friend was becoming tense. Michael always did in battle, especially when facing a cruiser. It was one of his two weaknesses, which Dave had often spoken to him about, but it made little difference. Fortunately, Michael’s tension had never affected his fighting skills, but there was always a first time.

Two seconds after the lock tone sounded, Dave released a salvo of missiles. Time seemed to slow as he watched the ordnance accelerate toward their target. He smiled in relief as he caught sight of another salvo streaking toward the cruiser. Michael’s systems had not let them down either.

Alright Mike, break to port and let’s get out of here pronto, suggested Dave.

I’m already on my way, he replied, the tension evident in his voice.

Moments after they had released the ordnance, the two pilots were pursued and targeted by over a dozen enemy fighters, making their flight away from the cruiser even more treacherous. Fortunately for Dave and Michael, and despite his anger toward them for disobeying orders, Gold-One was adamant that none of his pilots would die in battle.

"Gold Squadron, engage the enemy close to the cruiser and assist Gold-Two and Three in breaking away.

When multiple explosions began tearing through the rebel cruiser, Confederation fighters accelerated away from the immediate area to avoid the debris. Several enemy fighters were caught in the explosion, but not a single Confederation ship was destroyed. Some surviving rebel fighters fled the area, but the rest surrendered, preferring to face the consequences of their actions.

Alpha Wing, you are ordered to return to the Arkerron. Squadrons from Beta wing will escort the surviving rebels.

Copy that Flight Control. Squadron Commander Tarran changed comm channels. You heard the orders Gold Squadron. Form up and head for the Arkerron and a well-earned break.

Dave let out a deep breath and relaxed. He eased back the throttle and with his wingman alongside, vectored in on their squadron commander. Taking up their respective positions, they followed Gold-One back to the command ship.

An hour later, the pilots of Alpha Wing were sitting in the briefing room, talking quietly among themselves as they waited for their wing commander to appear. Dave sat with his legs stretched out in front of him and his arms folded across his chest. He yawned deeply as the exertion of battle was finally catching up on him.

That sure was a hair-raising assault you performed on that rebel cruiser, Dave.

That assault, Flying Officer Stevens, was foolhardy and reckless, said Squadron Commander Tarran who entered the room via the back door, despite the fact that it was a successful one.

All of the gathered pilots sat upright as a mark of respect, except Dave Jackson, who had been expecting him to enter via that entrance. He adjusted his seating position in a leisurely manner, taking no notice of those who frowned at him for his apparent lack of respect to his commanding officer.

Oliver Tarran sighed heavily as he stopped next to Dave. If your attitude and behaviour was as good as your flying, Flight Commander Jackson, you’d be commanding your own squadron by now.

Maybe so, Sir, sighed Dave, but then I wouldn’t be able to have so much fun, nor get the opportunity to do such foolhardy or reckless manoeuvres.

Michael shook his head, his brow creased in a deep-set frown, and then gave his friend a warning glare, but Dave ignored it.

I’ll never understand you, Jackson, not for as long as I live. You’re an enigma, and a damned frustrating one to-boot.

Several pilots laughed, but stopped abruptly when Oliver glared at them. He shook his head in exasperation as he walked to the front of the room and joined Squadron Commanders Garrett and Walkan, commanders of Green and Blue Squadrons. Despite his opinion of Jackson, he could not dispute the fact that he was an exceptional fighter pilot, and he admired the younger man’s tenacity and skill.

Three folders containing the reports filed following the engagement with the Devastator were on the table, one for each of the three squadrons. The folders contained not only the reports filed by the squadron commanders, but those written by their wing commander and the group commander who had reviewed the flight data and the reports written by them.

When the main door at the front of the room opened and Wing Commander Antara entered, all of the officers stood up and saluted. At ease ladies and gentlemen, he commanded as he dropped a folder on the table. While he waited for everyone to sit down and remove their caps, he cast his gaze over them. He noted their expressions, the way they sat, and where their attention appeared to be directed. Almost everyone was looking directly at him. Several, one in particular appeared disinterested. He was gazing at the data-pad on the arm of his chair, apparently oblivious to the fact that he was being watched.

Antara knew all about Flight Commander Jackson’s performance and behaviour, but had no true inkling why he behaved with such apparent disregard for rules and regulations. He took a deep breath and let it out a little too forcefully. Alright ladies and gentlemen, let’s begin with the situation we are currently facing.

Chapter Three

The atmosphere in the officers’ lounge was rather subdued considering the recent victory against the rebel forces, namely the destruction of the Devastator. Most of the pilots had already left, having finished their meals and sought other recreational activity to pass away the time, so it was relatively quiet and peaceful. Dave and Michael were in no rush to do anything else, and like most others, were not in the mood for celebrating.

Dave sighed heavily, picked up his glass of Santaran whisky, and swirled the contents around a few times before taking a large gulp of the sweet amber liquid. He licked his lips and banged his glass down a little too hard. A few of the other officers still in the lounge turned and glared at him, but quickly averted their gaze when they saw him rubbing his hands over his face.

Ease up there Dave, suggested Michael. Surely it ain’t that bad?

Dave leant back in the chair, shook his head and took a deep breath to steady his nerves. Reaching out, he grabbed the glass, finished the rest of his drink in one mouthful and then put the glass down beside his plate a little more gently. They’re all dead, all of them.

Michael dropped his gaze to avoid eye to eye contact with his friend, not knowing what to say. The rapturous welcome Gold Squadron received after returning to the Arkerron, and the joyous demeanour of the crew was short lived. After the de-briefing, Wing Commander Antara took Dave aside and revealed some shocking news: The dreadnought carrier class battle cruiser Scorpion was destroyed in a lightning attack by ten rebel cruisers. Out of a compliment of two thousand three hundred and fourteen, only two hundred and eight survived. It was the greatest loss of life suffered by Confederation forces since the destruction of the Calsoan Fleet’s second squadron at the onset of the war.

The loss of the Confederations’ most prestigious battle cruiser hit Dave harder than most, not because he had family onboard, but because he knew many of the pilots who were stationed on her. Pilots who were fortunate enough to be assigned to Alpha Squadron, squadron one-one-one-one, were selected by a vigorous and highly selective assessment process.

Both Dave and Michael had been selected for the assessment program, but neither had been successful. Michael failed on the final level aptitude tests, whereas Dave had been rejected after the initial interviewing process. He knew the probability of rejection had been high even before he arrived at the assessment centre, not that he could or would have done anything about it. Even when interviewed by Wing Commander Antara afterward, he was unable to explain fully the reasons behind his lower than average conduct assessment, whether he wanted to or not.

Dave shook his head. How could the pride of the Confederation be caught and destroyed so easily? It just doesn’t make sense.

Of course it does, whispered Michael. Don’t you see?

Dave’s brow creased in a shallow frown.

It’s all down to treachery, added Michael in hushed tones. There are some within our forces, those who know about fleet deployments, who are working for the rebels. There’s no other explanation.

Dave stared at his friend without uttering a response. It was hard to believe anyone would willingly betray the Confederation, even though he knew there were those who did. The Nasar Galactic Confederation was founded to unite the systems under a common purpose: To establish treaties between the peoples and races within the Confederation that enable free and fair trade, to promote equality, and to ensure all share in the prosperity of trade and commerce.

The President, who served only one term of five years, was democratically elected from all of the governors that represented those systems. The military service, which recruited from every star system, was formed to serve and protect the Confederation.

Don’t look so shocked, said Michael when he saw Dave’s frown. There are always people who don’t agree with ruling governments, or the principles they adhere to.

‘Yes, I know that,’ he said silently. Those who complain and protest are usually the corrupt, those who stand to lose from illegal operations, or those who overprice their goods and services to make money at the expense of the poorer in society. Even so, few would dare rise up in rebellion.

That might be true in most cases, but I dare say some have friends in high places, influential people, if you know what I mean.

I do, but you had better not voice your thoughts or your opinions too loudly, said Dave casting his gaze quickly around the lounge, concerned that some might have overheard.

Don’t worry yourself too much about anyone here.

Dave glared across the table and then shook his head. Yes, well, I do care. We’ve got too much to lose. Anyway, he continued before Michael was able to respond, if what you say is true, I’m sure security officers are already watching for anything that might be construed as an act of conspiracy, even simply talking about it could land you in a whole heap of trouble.

Mike laughed, but not too loudly. Do you think I’m that foolish?

Dave shook his head, but avoided looking his friend in the eye. Of course not, but it’s so easy to say the wrong thing at the wrong time. He pointed at himself. Take me for one. I’m a prime example. That’s why I’ve missed out on that promotion to squadron commander, and not only once.

Michael sniggered. No, that didn’t stop you gaining your promotion, it ended your chances of a lasting relationship with Wilma, Wing Commander Reedon’s daughter.

It was Dave’s turn to laugh. Aye, I remember her only too well. Thinking about it, you could call it a lucky escape. Having Wing Commander Reedon as a father-in-law? I don’t think that was such a good thing to consider.

You’ve got a good point there. Mind you, she was gorgeous, and would have been one hell of a catch for you.

Dave was unable to stop smiling at the memory. He had been totally smitten with Wilma, and would have even considered giving up being a fighter pilot just to stay with her. That, however, was before he discovered the true identity of her father. He turned his thoughts back to other matters. No, I was actually referring to the time after that. You should remember my untimely and unfortunate encounter with Admiral Davey.

Enough said. I get the point. Mike held up his glass. Fancy another?

Dave uncrossed his arms and let out a deep breath as he picked up his glass and handed it to Michael. Yeah, why not!

While Michael headed for the bar, Dave crossed his arms and leant back, relaxing as much as was possible. He glanced to his left and saw Flying Officer Alese Winter strolling toward him. When she smiled, he reciprocated, but said nothing as she sat in the chair recently vacated by his friend.

So, the hero of Gold Squadron is drinking alone with the wing-pup.

Dave glared at her. That’s a bit harsh, Alese. He’s a damn good pilot, and a good friend.

Alese recoiled at the stern response, but then burst into laughter. You’re so easily wound up Dave. Can’t you tell when a woman’s fishing for a bite?

Dave sighed, his frown deepening. "Now ain’t a good time for messing around, and you’d better not let Mike hear you calling him a wing-pup. The last person who did ended up with a broken nose and a few loose teeth.

Alese leant back sporting a feigned expression of utter shock. He wouldn’t hit a woman, would he? I’m mortified at the mere thought that he’d do such a thing.

Dave just stared at her. He was not in a good mood, and he was definitely not in the mood for messing around, not even with Alese. He glanced to his right to see why Michael was taking so long with their drinks.

Alright Mr Uptight Dave Jackson, what’s eating away at you? I’ve never seen you so tense and sharp. I thought you’d have been ecstatic over having destroyed that rebel cruiser almost single-handed.

I am pleased about it, but losing friends you’ve known since attending junior education faculty is a little hard to take in. Dave felt the anguish rising inside, and so hastily fought to keep his expression and voice from betraying his emotions.

Alese, who was stunned by his comment, stared at him through wide eyes. What? Are you saying you knew people on that rebel cruiser?

Dave sighed heavily as he shook his head. Obviously you haven’t heard about the Scorpion.

Heard what about the Scorpion?

It was destroyed by rebel forces a few days ago. There were only two hundred survivors, mostly engineers and support personnel. Dave noticed her shoulders droop and the sudden change in her mood. That’s why I’m not in a good mood, nor in the mood for celebrating. That’s also the hard truth about what this rebellion is causing: Death and destruction, friends and families being torn apart, or taken before their time.

Alese just gazed at him through sad eyes.

I knew everyone in Alpha Squadron, some since junior education, others since I began pilot training. I even flew with some of them in active service before being transferred to the Arkerron.

No, I hadn’t heard anything. I guess the news hasn’t been fully circulated yet. When did you hear?

After the debriefing. The wing commander only told me because a cousin was one of the shuttle pilots assigned to the Scorpion.

Your cousin! Damn it. I’m so sorry Dave, I had no idea. Alese shook her head, not knowing what else to say.

Dave shrugged his shoulders. Don’t worry about it. He was a very distant cousin, and we weren’t close. We hardly knew each other really, but he was family, well sort of. He glanced toward the bar again. Michael was chatting to Flying Officer Jarred, a young female pilot who had recently been transferred to Green Squadron. ‘Typical,’ he mouthed silently.

Mike glanced over his shoulder, saw Dave looking in his direction and gave a short nod.

Dave sighed and returned his attention to Alese when she began talking.

I can see why your recent success is not such a cause for being overjoyed.

He did not respond. Instead he let his gaze drift around the lounge.

Alese laced her fingers together and bit her lip gently as she studied the young man sitting opposite her. Flight Commander Jackson had always intrigued her. He was an interesting person, one whom she thought seemed out of place in the military. She knew none of his family had served, and wondered what had driven him into joining. Not that she would dare ask him, especially at such a time.

Despite everything she knew, or did not know, Dave was one of those people she admired greatly. It was not because of his demeanour or behaviour, which was unacceptable, but because of his exceptional flying skills. He was one of the most determined fighters she knew, and nothing appeared to cause him concern, give him reason to hold back, or hesitate to do what was required, regardless of the danger he put himself in. She also found him pleasing to the eye and had often considered attempting to become more acquainted with him. Unfortunately, he did not appear to be overly interested in her on a personal level, much to her disappointment.

I’m sorry for making that derisory comment about Michael, said Alese.

What? Dave turned his head sharply. Sorry, I was miles away. What did you say?

Alese’s brow furrowed in a shallow frown, wondering if he was just messing about. When she gazed into his eyes, she knew he was not. I’m sorry for being unkind to Michael. Calling him what I did was uncalled for and inconsiderate.

A half-hearted smile spread across Dave’s face. That’s alright. I’ve heard much worse, some of it even directed at me. Still, I don’t care what anyone else thinks about me; it’s not important and it’s pointless getting stressed over it.

Some would, very much so. Alese knew she would be upset if someone was so unkind to her, which is why she felt so bad at having been so unkind about Michael. She tilted her head sideways a little and gazed intently at Dave. Such things would affect some people’s confidence and self-esteem, so much so, their performance would be diminished.

And get themselves killed as a consequence, added Dave. He scrutinised her expression and nodded gently. Don’t fret over it Alese. No damage has been done, and Mike doesn’t need to know.

Alese smiled warmly and nodded her acquiescence.

Dave took a deep breath and let it out slowly. We cannot allow superficial and shallow comments made by jealous people have a negative effect on us, or our performance.

Alese’s expression hardened, as if offended by his statement. That’s easier said than done. She took a sip of her drink, keeping her gaze fixed on Dave.

I don’t include you in that group, he said seeing her stern gaze. You’re a damn good pilot Alese, and would never intentionally do anything to offend anyone.

I know you didn’t, she said unconvincingly, but Dave just smiled.

She put her glass down, tilted her head a little to the right, her expression one of curiosity. Tell me Dave, what makes you so much better than everyone else?

Dave rubbed his nose and sniffed to clear an itch as he pondered whether or not to answer, and if he did, how. He leant back and rubbed his index finger and thumb across his mouth and chin. Alese was watching him carefully, her eyes betraying her intrigue, and something else, something he could not quite figure out. After a few moments, he sighed. Perhaps it’s because I have nothing and nobody to care about. Being a fighter pilot is my life and it’s what I do best.

The answer shocked Alese, not having expected such a response. What of your family? Surely….

Dave huffed. Surely nothing. My mother is dead, not that she’d care if she was alive. My father, he paused momentarily, well, he cares little for anything or anyone. He has no cares, has no life, nothing that’s worth living, not now. It would have been better for him and everyone else if he had died in that accident. He cast his gaze downward, refusing to meet her curious, but saddened gaze.

I’m so sorry Dave, I didn’t know.

Don’t be, he replied gruffly shaking his head. I don’t need or want any sympathy. The moment the words came out of his mouth, he regretted saying them. Dave kept his gaze held low.

Alese, knowing she would be treading dangerous ground if she said anything more about it, decided to change the subject. So, how can I get transferred to Gold Squadron?

Why ask me? replied Dave shrugging his shoulders. After all, I’m only a flight commander, one that is sorely out of favour with both the squadron and the wing commander, even after destroying that rebel cruiser.

Alese was shocked. Out of favour? Your exploits are well known throughout Confed forces, and not only those that have landed you in trouble. Even so, I wouldn’t have thought those would have put you out of favour with Command.

Most people only know half the truth, and that’s usually exaggerated. Dave took a deep breath to calm his nerves, which were steadily becoming more strained. If you want to join Gold Squadron, I’d suggest you do it through the official channel. Complete the transfer request and see what happens.

He lifted his head and gazed intently at Alese, scrutinising her expression. He saw the hope and the expectation in her eyes. There was definitely a sparkle in her slate grey eyes, which Dave had always found appealing. If you’re really serious about wanting to transfer, I’ll speak to Tarran and put in a good word for you.

Alese stared at him, mouth ajar and eyes wide. You’d do that for me?

Dave smiled at her, a kind and friendly smile. Why wouldn’t I? You’re a damn good pilot, you can keep cool under intense pressure, and you have a good kill record. Personal feelings, likes and dislikes should not affect a pilot, not when we’re fighting for the same side.

Perhaps we can deal with any differences….

Dave nodded gently. I don’t see why not. Dave was pondering what else to say when Michael waltzed over with the fresh drinks. He noticed Alese’s expression drop when his friend arrived. He knew she was disappointed at having their conversation terminated before they had had chance to air those differences, but maybe it was for the better. The lounge was not really the place to deal with such things.

Sorry I took so long, said Michael.

Alese caught Dave’s attention. I’d best be getting off. Salenda will be wondering what’s happened to me. Alese stood and gazed toward Dave as she walked around the table. I’ll see you around Dave. She glanced briefly at Michael, smiled and walked off without looking back.

Michael sat in the vacated chair and stared at his friend. You seemed to be all cosy chatting happily with her, he said suggestively. A warm seat: How lovely.

Dave shook his head and sighed.

So, what were you two talking about, or shouldn’t I be asking?

Thanks for the drink, replied Dave as he picked up the glass and downed the contents in one gulp. Nothing important. Just idle chatter. After wiping his mouth, he stood and straightened his jacket. I’ll see you later Mike. There’s a few things I need to do and I can’t put them off any longer. Without waiting for a reply, he turned and strode toward the door, leaving Michael feeling rather bemused.

Chapter Four

A week later, the battle cruiser Arkerron was coming to the end of its routine patrol of the Apranti and Delphine Systems. As per standing patrol routine, three fighter squadrons had been placed on alert status, the pilots strapped in and ready for immediate take-off, if and when required. Gold and Red squadrons were among the three on alert, and waited impatiently to be given the order to stand down or deploy.

Despite reports indicating there was no chance of being on the end of a surprise attack by the Bakarian rebel fleet, Admiral Irvann remained on edge the whole time. He was a battle-hardened veteran, had been in command of a battle cruiser for almost sixteen years, the Arkerron, which was a mark two assault carrier class, for eight of them. He had learnt from bitter experience how important it was to remain alert and ready for anything, especially during a time of conflict.

All sensors are still clear, Admiral, reported the senior sensor operator.

Louis sighed heavily and dared consider there would be no action on this particular day. Prepare for light-speed.

There was a flurry of activity as systems were checked, orders relayed, docking bays locked down and hangar doors closed. As protocol dictated, the hangar doors were the last operation performed before making the jump to FTL. The Arkerron was just commencing that operation when the sensor warning buzzer sounded. Admiral, an enemy cruiser has just dropped out of FTL. Identity confirmed as the Echelon, an assault class battle cruiser. Hangar doors are opening.

Cancel FTL and deploy fighter squadrons. Bring the ship around and prepare to engage. Admiral Irvann’s voice remained calm and steady, as always. He smiled with anticipation and delight at having another opportunity to confront a rebel ship.

Admiral, Gold squadron is deploying now. Red and Yellow squadrons to follow. The Echelon has deployed all four of its squadrons.

Prepare to launch three more squadrons. All guns to be charged and ready. Ship-to-ship torpedoes to be primed and the Echelon targeted, but do not launch until I give the order.

Louis stood and strolled toward the front viewing port. He could feel the air of excitement and anticipation of the crew. It stirred his soul. His crew was efficient, dedicated, and loyal. They had performed far and above expectation and had never let him, or the Confederation down. He believed they would not do so now. He clasped his hands behind his back and watched as Gold Squadron formed up and headed for the enemy, Red and Yellow following close behind.

Michael sighed heavily, his disappointment evident. He had been hoping to engage more enemy fighters, but it appeared as if it was not going to happen. When the order to stand down was given, his heart sank. Then, moments later, the launch order was given. His excitement burgeoned and he became impatient to see the hangar doors open and the clamps released. Here we go again Dave.

Dave, for reasons he was unable to understand, did not share his friend’s glee over the forthcoming confrontation. He was hoping for a reprieve, at least for a few more days, even a brief period of shore leave, although that was a little too much to ask for. The loss of so many people, including friends and colleagues, when the Scorpion was destroyed, still played heavily on his mind, more than he had believed possible.

His conversation with Alese had also had an effect on him, but not in the way he had expected. Michael’s untimely return with his second drink had taken away any opportunity of seeing where their conversation was leading. Ever since then, Dave had been hoping to literally bump into Alese in one of the corridors or the officers’ lounge, but he had not seen her anywhere. His thoughts were diverted when the husky flight controller’s voice sounded over the communications system.

Gold Squadron, you’re cleared for launch. Good hunting and good luck.

He engaged the repulsor engine, waited for the ship to reach take off height and then eased the throttle forward. The moment his fighter broke through the magnetic shield, he came alive. His senses went on immediate alert as he scanned the