The Last Charge (The Nameless War Trilogy Book 3) by Edmond Barrett

away from Earth?” Wingate asked.
    “I can’t be the anvil sir. I need to be the hammer. We have to achieve gun range and I believe this is the way to do it.”
    Wingate stared at the display.
    “The Council will not like this,” he said eventually.
    “The Council has handed over a chunk of the human race to the fucking Aèllr,” Fengzi replied. “We’ve been off the wall, they’ve done the unthinkable.”
    “I may not word it that way Admiral, but you’re right. We’ve already given up on conventional thinking,” Wingate replied before turning. “Admiral Lewis, you are authorised to proceed.”

 
    Chapter Five
    Digging In
     
    12th December 2067 
     
    “I’m just saying sir, we’ve got problems brewing,” said Deimos ’s Chief Engineer. “The Bosun has got teams doing ultrasounds along the rest of the longitudinal beams, but I’m expecting more of the same.”
    “Unfortunately, I expect you’re right,” Crowe replied, looking up from his computer pad. “I’m not sure what they are putting us into dock for at this late hour, but I want this brought to the dockyard’s attention. We may as well try to get something out of this.”
    There was no doubt that when the shit hit the fan they would be in the middle of it. Deimos had a well drilled and by now experienced crew, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t have their focus buggered up. The news about the Confederacy was bad enough and they’d had their two message drones swapped out for the new torpedoes. He wanted the crew to be ready, not pissing around with new equipment they wouldn’t have time to master. This was not the time to start rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic.
    Currently, Deimos was holding position five hundred metres outside the Gemini construction platform, waiting for a tug to assist with the final approach and docking.
    “This isn’t something to be dealt with on the fly,” the engineer warned. “This is major overhaul stuff and even then, the ship might still have problems,” he ended with a shrug.
    Crowe looked back at the pad. The inspection results were bad, but far from unexpected. Deimos had been designed to escort larger slower vessels like fighter carriers and support ships, protecting them from enemy fighters, strike boats and destroyers. With no requirement to match the rapid movements of more nimble ships, she was relatively lightly built. But in this war, Deimos had found herself in a battle line role more stressful than that envisioned by her designers. Along the way she’d absorbed two heavy blows and numerous minor hits, all of which were taking their toll. The diagram now in front of Crowe showed the ship’s main structural beams, with red markers indicating where micro fractures had already been detected in the ship’s structure. Deimos wasn’t an old ship but war was wearing her out fast. To stand any chance of stopping the rot, she needed a major refit – a refit that she would not get. So why were they heading into a dock where the heavy cruisers De Gaulle and Michael Collins had already been moored? Something was up. He could feel it and he knew he probably wouldn’t like it.
     
    The briefing room was almost silent as the officers who had been gathered there departed. Some looked shell-shocked and some bemused as they filed out. Crowe remained in his seat, furious. He’d barely had time to get Deimos to her berth before running for the shuttle to Starforge . Once there, he’d been escorted to a briefing room with a dozen other commanding officers – some of the fleet’s best. These were the men and women expected to provide the next generation of admirals and fleet commanders. As a man who before the war had happily taken the role of a driver for civilian exploration missions, this was not company Crowe had either expected or wanted to find himself in. When Admiral Lewis had walked into the room, he’d known it would be bad. He hadn’t been wrong.
    When the other commanding officers