Page 52 of Possessed By the Dragon Alien
Othercourtiaswho had been fond of Cyprian when he was the director of Erovik had been excellent for infiltration and intelligence gathering. Many of them knew high-ranking Axis officials intimately and had access to security protocols, ship layouts, and personal habits.
“What about the miners?”
“Stavian’s people have done a wonderful job of recruiting,” Razion said. “Latest count is eight industrial ships. They’ve been busy converting mining equipment into weapons. Some of those ore processors can punch through heavy armor like it’sdiathapaper.”
Movement caught Madrian’s attention through the observation deck’s massive viewport. Another group of ships was approaching. These were smaller and faster than the Dokkol vessels. As they drew closer, he could see some bore the distinctive modifications that marked them as converted civilian craft. Extra armor plating, improvised weapon mounts, reinforced hulls. Two others looked like they’d once been luxury transport craft, but the markings were burned off and they’d been outfitted with plating and weaponry.
“Who are those?” he asked.
Rien checked her scanner. “The ones in front are from Agricultural World Kepler-9 and the other two are calling themselves the Jaak Collective, which is made up of ex-fighters from the Slarik Arena. They say to give Takkian and Sevas theirregards. Both are requesting permission to dock for a supply restock.”
Madrian nodded. Farmers and agricultural workers. Miners and ex-arena fighters. All people who’d spent their lives subjugated by the Axis.
“Grant permission. Ellion and Turi are in the hangar and can get them the supplies they need.”
As he watched the farming ships maneuver toward docking ports, Madrian felt something he’d never experienced during his time with the Axis. These people weren’t here because they’d been ordered to fight. They weren’t following commands or serving a military hierarchy. They were here by choice. They’d left their homes, their safety, their normal lives to stand against the empire that had oppressed them. The Axis didn’t pull this level of loyalty. Not even close. Not even from their upper ranks.
The communication channel crackled again. This time it was Cyprian’s voice, smooth and amused as always. “Brothers, we have a situation developing that requires your attention.”
“What kind of situation?” Ellion asked.
“The kind where we have more volunteers than we can accommodate. I’ve got seventeen different resistance cells requesting permission to join the fleet. Mining collectives, transport guilds, manufacturing cooperatives. Even a few Axis defectors.”
Madrian’s tactical mind immediately began calculating logistics. Food, fuel, ammunition, coordination. Managing this many disparate groups would be a nightmare under the best circumstances. In the middle of space, preparing for an assault on the most heavily defended installation in the galaxy, it bordered on impossible.
“We need organization,” he said, stepping closer to the communication array. “Clear command structure. Standardized procedures.”
“We need more than that,” Stavian’s voice added from wherever he was on the ship. “We need a strategy that accounts for all these different capabilities. The Dokkol can absorb tremendous punishment but they’re slow. Most of the modified ships are fast enough, but they can’t take hits from their flanks. The pirates are excellent at hit-and-run tactics but terrible at following orders.”
“And the miners?” Takkian cut in from another deck entirely. His deep voice carried the weight of someone who’d fought in the gladiatorial arenas.
“The miners arefekkingmad,” Stavian replied. “But they’re not soldiers.”
Madrian found himself thinking about the problem the way he would have approached it as High Chancellor Madrian. Different assets, different strengths, different weaknesses. How to coordinate them into an effective force?
“We don’t need them all to be soldiers,” he said slowly. “We need them to do what they do best, but in service of a larger plan.”
The observation deck’s doors whispered open behind him. Nena stepped through, her green hair catching the reflected starlight from the viewport. She moved to his side, her presence immediately settling something restless in his chest.
“How many ships now?” she asked quietly.
“Thirty-eight,” he replied. “Too many and not enough.”
She pressed her hand against the cool surface of the viewport, watching the organized chaos of vessels maneuvering around them. “I never imagined anything like this. All these people, coming together.”
“Neither did I.” The admission surprised him. As a high chancellor, he’d commanded vast fleets, coordinated massive military operations. But those had been exercises in control, in imposing the Axis’ will through superior force. This wasdifferent. This was organic, driven by something the Axis had never understood.
Hope.
“Sir,” the communications officer called again. “Priority transmission from the forward scouts.”
Fek’ssake, this was beginning to become unmanageable. “Put it through.”
A new voice filled the observation deck, tight with urgency. “This is Scout Wing Alpha. We’ve completed our reconnaissance of the Axis Central perimeter. The dome’s defensive grid has been reinforced. They’re doubling the power output to it.”
“Of course, they are.” Madrian’s stomach dropped. He’d provided everything he knew about Central’s defenses, but the Twelve had a few tricks left, and one of them was making their dome impenetrable.
“How extensive?” Ellion’s voice carried clearly.
