Alright, took all the suggestions and re-wrote. Let me know what else I can do to improve. Thanks again for all the help!!!
Seneschal Jacob Akkaid stood at attention as he awaited the emergency council to convene in the Chambre de Vie. He had spent his entire childhood in Guardian training in the Salchian, and knew the rooms and their various frescoes like the back of his hand. Yet, in all those years, he had never once stepped foot in the chamber. He gazed in wonder at the exquisite stained glass windows, the silk tapestries adorning the walls. He stood before a great altar, made of pure white marble. Mag lifts covertly installed in the floor gave the illusion that the altar floated serenely of its own accord. The vaulted ceiling was supported by oaken buttresses, each delicately carved in the likeness of various saints. This room was strictly reserved for the council, who met only once per year, but departure of the Shimanto Corporation from the Old Galaxy, combined with their own defeats at the hand of the Alliance, necessitated the un-orthodox gathering. The elders of the 5 Crucible orders slowly gathered before the altar and took their seats.
Deacon Brown, head of the Catholic Order and chairman of the council of elders, initiated the emergency session. “Gentlemen, these are dark days for the Crucible. Acre has fallen. Our armada has been defeated and now the Alliance fleet threatens Antioch. We, the elders of Zion, must now decide the fate of the Crucible. Shall we continue in our defense of our home, or do we take to the stars as did the Shimantans?”
“My view will surprise no one.” Deacon Graham responded. “We must continue the fight no matter what the cost.”
Several of the Deacons began murmuring among themselves as Seneschal Jacob Akkaid remained at a position of attention. As the last remaining Seneschal, he was the de-facto commander and chief of the Crucible’s armed forces. Though he commanded the military, he himself answered to the Deacons.
“Can you hold Antioch until the world can be evacuated Honorable Seneschal?” asked Deacon O’Malley, leader of the Hospitaler Order, a sect considered liberal by Crucible standards. “And please dear Seneschal, take a seat, you are among equals here.”
Jacob awkwardly took a seat, obviously uncomfortable with the presence of the most powerful men in the Crucible. He was used to leading men, but the young Seneschal never once considered himself the equal of a Deacon. “I can delay any invasion attempts, but with the remains of the fleet tied up in Antioch, Zion would be left open to attack.” This was the hard truth. The Armada had faired well against the Alliance fleet carriers. Backed up by Antioch’s Orbital Defense Net, the fleet could prevent any invasion of the planet, but in doing so the Zion system would be open to attack.
“I fail to see how we can continue the war if we are unable to defend our own space, Seneschal.” Deacon Graham replied. “If we allow the Alliance to remain in Antioch, with no resistance, it is only a matter of time before they overcome the system defenses and begin orbital bombardment.”
“Deacon, we cannot face the Alliance fleet in Antioch and hope to win, nor do we have to face this fleet in order to continue the war. Seneschal Cooper, may he walk with the Lord, rolled the dice in baiting them to the Acre System, and he lost. The Alliance may have won Acre, but they have left their own space undefended.” He could tell the last part caught their attention.
“Are you serious? You propose to invade the Alliance? What possible good would that do the Crucible? You said yourself Seneschal, the fleet is needed to defend Zion!” Deacon O’Malley barley hid his contempt.
Deacon Graham interjected. “Calm yourself Deacon; the man is obviously uneasy as it is.” Then he looked to Jacob. “I am not against invading Alliance space Seneschal, but please explain how sending our fleet into Alliance space can possibly alleviate the situation in Antioch.”
“We hit them where it hurts. According to the most recent probes, the Tachyon collectors in the Dartmouth system have only a small Alliance flotilla defending them. A strike, a successful strike, at the station would cripple the Alliance’s force projection capabilities, and could very well force them to withdraw their forces from Acre.” Jacob pondered the truth of his statement, knowing full well that what remained of the once mighty Crucible fleet was hardly in a position to go off chasing the Alliance. After their defeats in the Battle of Acre and the Battle of Antioch, many no longer believed the Alliance could be defeated.
Deacon Graham. “I am still not sure how I feel about sending our fleet anywhere but Antioch” The Deacon let out a long sigh and continued. “However, if you truly believe this to be our only viable option, let it not be said a Teuton had not the heart for a fight. You have my vote young Jacob, do not make me regret it.”
“Mine as well, the Mason’s have never run from a fight. I must warn you however, my agents tell me moral is very high among the Alliance. The news holos say that Admiral Horstooth claims Antioch will fall within a standard month, and that the Armada of the Crucible is a shell of its former self.” Deacon Isaac D’Arno, head of the Crucible’s intelligence wing Drachenorden, was a frail, elderly man. Few ever crossed the old Deacon; the few who had were either missing or forgotten. “I understand moral in the fleet is not what it used to be. Spirit can be just as much a deciding factor as ships, dear Seneschal.”
“Low moral is a natural result of defeat, and is replenished just as quickly with even the most minor of victories.” Quipped Jacob, never intimidated my men who wore no uniform.
“This is ridiculous; you plan to send what little forces we have left on what you say yourself is an insignificant operation? You will leave Zion itself defenseless for a ‘minor victory’? I will not vote for a measure that leaves us no chance of withdrawing to safer stars!” Deacon O’Malley lost his temper. Never having made a secret of his desires to flee Zion to a safer world, his Hospitallers had even gone so far as claiming the Revealing had been misinterpreted. He had never made public his own support of this view, but few had any doubts. Always an ambitious one, Deacon O’Malley saw opportunity in leading the exodus, fancying himself as the new ‘Moses’.
“As I have said already, the action may be a minor skirmish in fleet on fleet action, but the loss of the Tachyon collectors would be disastrous to the Alliance’s plans in this sector. Without a nearby source of Tachyon cores, the Alliance will be unable to re-charge their jump drives. ” Jacob eyed Deacon Abbot, knowing his vote would be the deciding factor, Deacon Brown, as chairman of the council and head of the Church of Zion, would never abandon Zion as long as a man was left to defend it.
“You all know where my vote lies.” Said Deacon Brown, “What say you Deacon Abbot?”
“I regret that this war must continue at all. I have worn the sash of the Legion, and I remember full well the terrors of war. But I cannot in good faith abandon that lands the Lord gave to us unless I know it is the only way the Word can survive.” The Deacon straightened his back, looking down from his bench at Jacob. “Neither will I leave Zion undefended with three quarters of the Alliance fleet at our doorstep. What forces can you leave in defense of our home?”
“Of the four remaining Arch-Angel class Battlecruisers, only the Gabriel remains 100 percent operational. I plan to take the Gabriel, two Luther class heavy cruisers and four Seraphim class destroyers.”
A slight grin passed Jacobs lips as he named the latter. The Seraphim had been his own brain child. A long, slender vessel, Jacob had gotten the idea from a holo about a Great War on old Earth. The German country, having not the naval forces to face the Allies in open warfare, used submarine vessels to launch surprise attacks against Allied forces. The Seraphim even resembled the old “U-boats” in form as well as function. At 250 meters long and 50 meters wide, the Seraphim was not a large ship. Nor did it carry the armament of a true destroyer. In place of the usual M-FAC batteries, Neutron Torpedo launchers and point defense cannons, the Seraphim carried only 4 large AkaraTek PAC-10 particle accelerators. These giant cannons ran nearly the length of the ship. The hull was coated in Omnispectrum panels, reflecting nearly all energy around the hull, making it invisible to anything other than a spot beam scanner. The only draw back was the tremendous cost of the Omnispectrum plating. Made from refined promethium, so rare that most worlds contained only a few kilograms, the Seraphim were irreplaceable.
Jacob summarized the Dartmouth Operation for the tenth time that day. “The Gabriel, along with the Luther class cruisers, CSF Faith and CSF Grace, will engage the enemy flotilla while the Seraphims penetrate the orbital defense grid and take out the station proper. The rest of the fleet is in desperate need of repair. Leaving them in orbit at Zion is the only viable option.” Jacob looked to Deacon D’Arno “Does the Alliance know the extent of the damage inflicted on the fleet, Deacon?”
“My agents tell me Admiral Horstooth reported the Gabriel and Michael as heavily damaged, along with most of the Luthers. They are still unaware of the existence of the twelve Seraphim.”
“Then it is decided” Deacon Brown rose to his feet, everyone else in the room followed suit, Jacob looking relieved that his role in the meeting had come to an end. “The Gabriel and the rest of the ships you have requested will depart for the Dartmouth system, the rest of the fleet will remain in Zion orbit for repairs. The matter of evacuation will be debated further, and I am sure the outcome of this expedition will weigh heavily on our decision.”
The Deacons returned Jacobs salute with polite bows and returned to their seats. As Jacob left the chamber a young man approached him. “Seneschal, my name is Dorian Vici, I am with the Drachenorden, may I walk with you?”
“Of course Drachen, I always have time for ‘informative’ conversation” Intruth, Jacob had never trusted D’Arno’s agents, but even they had their uses.
“I am afraid I have more questions and unknowns than usefull information. I am sure you are aware of the rumors regrading the Battle of Acre?”
“I assume your speaking of the Orbital Defense Grids poorly timed failure?” Jacobs voice carried contempt. “Yes, I have heard, but I find it hard to believe one of the Crucible’s own would betray his people like that, billions died friend.”
“No one is saying it was one of us. We have long know the Alliance’s desires to implant an agent on Acre, but untill the battle we belived the planet was clean.” Vici seemed appologetic, as if the possible betrayl was his personal responsibility. Jacob decided to like him. “The Deacon has aked me to tag along with you on your latest operation. With the recent compromise, security is top priority.”
Jacob took offense to the suggestion that his own staff was under suspicion. “First of all, Deacon D’Arno does not tell me who will be on my staff.” He turned to face Vici. “Second, I personally vouch for my command staff, including the fleet captains.”
“No Seneschal, you misunderstand me.” Vici blanched. Jacob was not a man you wanted as an enemy. “Your staff is not under suspesion, but if your operation is successful, you may find yourself in possesion of protected Alliance data, and I would be on hand to make full use of any information.” He continued. “The Deacon did not intend to impune on your athority, he simply thought you would aprreciate my particular abilities.”
Jacob rolled the idea over in his mind. Having the agent onboard could prove usefull if he intended to strike any further than Dartmouth. “ I will take this under consideration, I would suggest you be ready to depart on short notice.”
Vici perked up. “Ofcourse sir, I will eagerly await your decision.”
Back in his apartment, Jacob greeted his wife Jade and three daughters. After a rather quiet dinner Jacob retired to his office. The room was decorated in the styling of old Victorian Earth, the floor a very high quality Oak simulation. Jacob took a seat at his father’s old desk. This was not SimOak, but the real thing, a gift from the High Chancellor of the Alliance back before the War. A huge thing, it had taken 2 MagLift carts to get the thing into the office. Rich, dark wood surrounded a dark marble surface. Three HoloFrames held pictures of his family. He fell into the chair a watched two of his daughters recite the Book of Job in one of the HoloFrames. It felt like the weight of the world rested squarely on his shoulders, and in a way it did. He asked himself “How did it come to this?”
It wasn’t very long ago that the Alliance and Crucible were on such good terms that re-unification had been discussed. The radical liberals had long since been expelled from office, and new laws had brought an end to the insanely immoral Empire. No one would have guessed the turn in relations when High Chancellor Jorge Argano was elected two centuries ago, along with his Populist cronies. His inaugural address was nothing more than a hate filled discourse of how the Alliance’s woes were the fault of the Zionist and Shimantan influences. The public fed off his anger. When the Chancellor’s new government turned the economy around, through heavy handed government controls, it confirmed to the populace that the Shimantans and Zionists must have been the cause all along.
Resolution after resolution passed through parliament. At first they were simply hikes on the tariffs placed on Shimantan goods and limitations on visiting Zionist missionaries. Soon after, it was complete trade embargoes and revocation of all visas and passports. Once the Populists had completely isolated themselves from the rest of the Old Galaxy, they began citing every failure of their government, and in some cases natural disaster, as an act of sabotage by Zionist or Shimantan agents. Zionist missionaries and their recent converts were rounded up and deported, or worse. Shimantan technology and goods were banned.
The Shimantans and Zionists had never been allies, and at best maintained a shaky acquaintanceship, but the isolationist attitudes and overtly hostile actions of the Alliance forced them into an impromptu alliance after the Alliance’s attack on T’ Chou. The Arch Angel class ships, the CSF Uriel and the CSF Selaphiel, became the vanguard of a mighty Crucible Armada destined to the Ling Mai system; the largest Shimantan colony outside of Sai An. Leading that armada was Jacob’s father, Seneschal David Akkaid. The battle was a disaster, the fleet carriers of the Alliance were far more powerful than anyone imagined. The Crucible fleet was defeated, and David was lost.
Jacob paced the room, letting the click of his jackboot heels against the simoak floor sooth his thoughts. He hadn’t lied to the council after all, this really was possible. Truth be told the heaviest weight on his mind at the moment was how to tell his wife he would be leading what was left of the Armada deep into Alliance territory. His father had been a father to her as well since her own had passed, and his loss at the Battle of Ling Mai had hit her as hard as it had hit him. Planning this operation had been a snap; it was second nature after 40 years of Guardian training. How to tell his wife that he would be leading an assault eight light years into Alliance space was not.
Seneschal Jacob Akkaid stood at attention as he awaited the emergency council to convene in the Chambre de Vie. He had spent his entire childhood in Guardian training in the Salchian, and knew the rooms and their various frescoes like the back of his hand. Yet, in all those years, he had never once stepped foot in the chamber. He gazed in wonder at the exquisite stained glass windows, the silk tapestries adorning the walls. He stood before a great altar, made of pure white marble. Mag lifts covertly installed in the floor gave the illusion that the altar floated serenely of its own accord. The vaulted ceiling was supported by oaken buttresses, each delicately carved in the likeness of various saints. This room was strictly reserved for the council, who met only once per year, but departure of the Shimanto Corporation from the Old Galaxy, combined with their own defeats at the hand of the Alliance, necessitated the un-orthodox gathering. The elders of the 5 Crucible orders slowly gathered before the altar and took their seats.
Deacon Brown, head of the Catholic Order and chairman of the council of elders, initiated the emergency session. “Gentlemen, these are dark days for the Crucible. Acre has fallen. Our armada has been defeated and now the Alliance fleet threatens Antioch. We, the elders of Zion, must now decide the fate of the Crucible. Shall we continue in our defense of our home, or do we take to the stars as did the Shimantans?”
“My view will surprise no one.” Deacon Graham responded. “We must continue the fight no matter what the cost.”
Several of the Deacons began murmuring among themselves as Seneschal Jacob Akkaid remained at a position of attention. As the last remaining Seneschal, he was the de-facto commander and chief of the Crucible’s armed forces. Though he commanded the military, he himself answered to the Deacons.
“Can you hold Antioch until the world can be evacuated Honorable Seneschal?” asked Deacon O’Malley, leader of the Hospitaler Order, a sect considered liberal by Crucible standards. “And please dear Seneschal, take a seat, you are among equals here.”
Jacob awkwardly took a seat, obviously uncomfortable with the presence of the most powerful men in the Crucible. He was used to leading men, but the young Seneschal never once considered himself the equal of a Deacon. “I can delay any invasion attempts, but with the remains of the fleet tied up in Antioch, Zion would be left open to attack.” This was the hard truth. The Armada had faired well against the Alliance fleet carriers. Backed up by Antioch’s Orbital Defense Net, the fleet could prevent any invasion of the planet, but in doing so the Zion system would be open to attack.
“I fail to see how we can continue the war if we are unable to defend our own space, Seneschal.” Deacon Graham replied. “If we allow the Alliance to remain in Antioch, with no resistance, it is only a matter of time before they overcome the system defenses and begin orbital bombardment.”
“Deacon, we cannot face the Alliance fleet in Antioch and hope to win, nor do we have to face this fleet in order to continue the war. Seneschal Cooper, may he walk with the Lord, rolled the dice in baiting them to the Acre System, and he lost. The Alliance may have won Acre, but they have left their own space undefended.” He could tell the last part caught their attention.
“Are you serious? You propose to invade the Alliance? What possible good would that do the Crucible? You said yourself Seneschal, the fleet is needed to defend Zion!” Deacon O’Malley barley hid his contempt.
Deacon Graham interjected. “Calm yourself Deacon; the man is obviously uneasy as it is.” Then he looked to Jacob. “I am not against invading Alliance space Seneschal, but please explain how sending our fleet into Alliance space can possibly alleviate the situation in Antioch.”
“We hit them where it hurts. According to the most recent probes, the Tachyon collectors in the Dartmouth system have only a small Alliance flotilla defending them. A strike, a successful strike, at the station would cripple the Alliance’s force projection capabilities, and could very well force them to withdraw their forces from Acre.” Jacob pondered the truth of his statement, knowing full well that what remained of the once mighty Crucible fleet was hardly in a position to go off chasing the Alliance. After their defeats in the Battle of Acre and the Battle of Antioch, many no longer believed the Alliance could be defeated.
Deacon Graham. “I am still not sure how I feel about sending our fleet anywhere but Antioch” The Deacon let out a long sigh and continued. “However, if you truly believe this to be our only viable option, let it not be said a Teuton had not the heart for a fight. You have my vote young Jacob, do not make me regret it.”
“Mine as well, the Mason’s have never run from a fight. I must warn you however, my agents tell me moral is very high among the Alliance. The news holos say that Admiral Horstooth claims Antioch will fall within a standard month, and that the Armada of the Crucible is a shell of its former self.” Deacon Isaac D’Arno, head of the Crucible’s intelligence wing Drachenorden, was a frail, elderly man. Few ever crossed the old Deacon; the few who had were either missing or forgotten. “I understand moral in the fleet is not what it used to be. Spirit can be just as much a deciding factor as ships, dear Seneschal.”
“Low moral is a natural result of defeat, and is replenished just as quickly with even the most minor of victories.” Quipped Jacob, never intimidated my men who wore no uniform.
“This is ridiculous; you plan to send what little forces we have left on what you say yourself is an insignificant operation? You will leave Zion itself defenseless for a ‘minor victory’? I will not vote for a measure that leaves us no chance of withdrawing to safer stars!” Deacon O’Malley lost his temper. Never having made a secret of his desires to flee Zion to a safer world, his Hospitallers had even gone so far as claiming the Revealing had been misinterpreted. He had never made public his own support of this view, but few had any doubts. Always an ambitious one, Deacon O’Malley saw opportunity in leading the exodus, fancying himself as the new ‘Moses’.
“As I have said already, the action may be a minor skirmish in fleet on fleet action, but the loss of the Tachyon collectors would be disastrous to the Alliance’s plans in this sector. Without a nearby source of Tachyon cores, the Alliance will be unable to re-charge their jump drives. ” Jacob eyed Deacon Abbot, knowing his vote would be the deciding factor, Deacon Brown, as chairman of the council and head of the Church of Zion, would never abandon Zion as long as a man was left to defend it.
“You all know where my vote lies.” Said Deacon Brown, “What say you Deacon Abbot?”
“I regret that this war must continue at all. I have worn the sash of the Legion, and I remember full well the terrors of war. But I cannot in good faith abandon that lands the Lord gave to us unless I know it is the only way the Word can survive.” The Deacon straightened his back, looking down from his bench at Jacob. “Neither will I leave Zion undefended with three quarters of the Alliance fleet at our doorstep. What forces can you leave in defense of our home?”
“Of the four remaining Arch-Angel class Battlecruisers, only the Gabriel remains 100 percent operational. I plan to take the Gabriel, two Luther class heavy cruisers and four Seraphim class destroyers.”
A slight grin passed Jacobs lips as he named the latter. The Seraphim had been his own brain child. A long, slender vessel, Jacob had gotten the idea from a holo about a Great War on old Earth. The German country, having not the naval forces to face the Allies in open warfare, used submarine vessels to launch surprise attacks against Allied forces. The Seraphim even resembled the old “U-boats” in form as well as function. At 250 meters long and 50 meters wide, the Seraphim was not a large ship. Nor did it carry the armament of a true destroyer. In place of the usual M-FAC batteries, Neutron Torpedo launchers and point defense cannons, the Seraphim carried only 4 large AkaraTek PAC-10 particle accelerators. These giant cannons ran nearly the length of the ship. The hull was coated in Omnispectrum panels, reflecting nearly all energy around the hull, making it invisible to anything other than a spot beam scanner. The only draw back was the tremendous cost of the Omnispectrum plating. Made from refined promethium, so rare that most worlds contained only a few kilograms, the Seraphim were irreplaceable.
Jacob summarized the Dartmouth Operation for the tenth time that day. “The Gabriel, along with the Luther class cruisers, CSF Faith and CSF Grace, will engage the enemy flotilla while the Seraphims penetrate the orbital defense grid and take out the station proper. The rest of the fleet is in desperate need of repair. Leaving them in orbit at Zion is the only viable option.” Jacob looked to Deacon D’Arno “Does the Alliance know the extent of the damage inflicted on the fleet, Deacon?”
“My agents tell me Admiral Horstooth reported the Gabriel and Michael as heavily damaged, along with most of the Luthers. They are still unaware of the existence of the twelve Seraphim.”
“Then it is decided” Deacon Brown rose to his feet, everyone else in the room followed suit, Jacob looking relieved that his role in the meeting had come to an end. “The Gabriel and the rest of the ships you have requested will depart for the Dartmouth system, the rest of the fleet will remain in Zion orbit for repairs. The matter of evacuation will be debated further, and I am sure the outcome of this expedition will weigh heavily on our decision.”
The Deacons returned Jacobs salute with polite bows and returned to their seats. As Jacob left the chamber a young man approached him. “Seneschal, my name is Dorian Vici, I am with the Drachenorden, may I walk with you?”
“Of course Drachen, I always have time for ‘informative’ conversation” Intruth, Jacob had never trusted D’Arno’s agents, but even they had their uses.
“I am afraid I have more questions and unknowns than usefull information. I am sure you are aware of the rumors regrading the Battle of Acre?”
“I assume your speaking of the Orbital Defense Grids poorly timed failure?” Jacobs voice carried contempt. “Yes, I have heard, but I find it hard to believe one of the Crucible’s own would betray his people like that, billions died friend.”
“No one is saying it was one of us. We have long know the Alliance’s desires to implant an agent on Acre, but untill the battle we belived the planet was clean.” Vici seemed appologetic, as if the possible betrayl was his personal responsibility. Jacob decided to like him. “The Deacon has aked me to tag along with you on your latest operation. With the recent compromise, security is top priority.”
Jacob took offense to the suggestion that his own staff was under suspicion. “First of all, Deacon D’Arno does not tell me who will be on my staff.” He turned to face Vici. “Second, I personally vouch for my command staff, including the fleet captains.”
“No Seneschal, you misunderstand me.” Vici blanched. Jacob was not a man you wanted as an enemy. “Your staff is not under suspesion, but if your operation is successful, you may find yourself in possesion of protected Alliance data, and I would be on hand to make full use of any information.” He continued. “The Deacon did not intend to impune on your athority, he simply thought you would aprreciate my particular abilities.”
Jacob rolled the idea over in his mind. Having the agent onboard could prove usefull if he intended to strike any further than Dartmouth. “ I will take this under consideration, I would suggest you be ready to depart on short notice.”
Vici perked up. “Ofcourse sir, I will eagerly await your decision.”
Back in his apartment, Jacob greeted his wife Jade and three daughters. After a rather quiet dinner Jacob retired to his office. The room was decorated in the styling of old Victorian Earth, the floor a very high quality Oak simulation. Jacob took a seat at his father’s old desk. This was not SimOak, but the real thing, a gift from the High Chancellor of the Alliance back before the War. A huge thing, it had taken 2 MagLift carts to get the thing into the office. Rich, dark wood surrounded a dark marble surface. Three HoloFrames held pictures of his family. He fell into the chair a watched two of his daughters recite the Book of Job in one of the HoloFrames. It felt like the weight of the world rested squarely on his shoulders, and in a way it did. He asked himself “How did it come to this?”
It wasn’t very long ago that the Alliance and Crucible were on such good terms that re-unification had been discussed. The radical liberals had long since been expelled from office, and new laws had brought an end to the insanely immoral Empire. No one would have guessed the turn in relations when High Chancellor Jorge Argano was elected two centuries ago, along with his Populist cronies. His inaugural address was nothing more than a hate filled discourse of how the Alliance’s woes were the fault of the Zionist and Shimantan influences. The public fed off his anger. When the Chancellor’s new government turned the economy around, through heavy handed government controls, it confirmed to the populace that the Shimantans and Zionists must have been the cause all along.
Resolution after resolution passed through parliament. At first they were simply hikes on the tariffs placed on Shimantan goods and limitations on visiting Zionist missionaries. Soon after, it was complete trade embargoes and revocation of all visas and passports. Once the Populists had completely isolated themselves from the rest of the Old Galaxy, they began citing every failure of their government, and in some cases natural disaster, as an act of sabotage by Zionist or Shimantan agents. Zionist missionaries and their recent converts were rounded up and deported, or worse. Shimantan technology and goods were banned.
The Shimantans and Zionists had never been allies, and at best maintained a shaky acquaintanceship, but the isolationist attitudes and overtly hostile actions of the Alliance forced them into an impromptu alliance after the Alliance’s attack on T’ Chou. The Arch Angel class ships, the CSF Uriel and the CSF Selaphiel, became the vanguard of a mighty Crucible Armada destined to the Ling Mai system; the largest Shimantan colony outside of Sai An. Leading that armada was Jacob’s father, Seneschal David Akkaid. The battle was a disaster, the fleet carriers of the Alliance were far more powerful than anyone imagined. The Crucible fleet was defeated, and David was lost.
Jacob paced the room, letting the click of his jackboot heels against the simoak floor sooth his thoughts. He hadn’t lied to the council after all, this really was possible. Truth be told the heaviest weight on his mind at the moment was how to tell his wife he would be leading what was left of the Armada deep into Alliance territory. His father had been a father to her as well since her own had passed, and his loss at the Battle of Ling Mai had hit her as hard as it had hit him. Planning this operation had been a snap; it was second nature after 40 years of Guardian training. How to tell his wife that he would be leading an assault eight light years into Alliance space was not.
