Original Work Fighting Glory (Morningstar VI)

Hi, everyone

Fighting Glory is the fifth book in the Morningstar series, following on from Exiled To Glory, Stolen Glory, Tarnished Glory, Desperate Glory and Shadowed Glory. It will probably not make much sense unless you have read the first books in the series, although there will be a short introduction at the start, so I am happy to forward copies of the first books to anyone willing to provide comments for this book.

As always, I welcome comments and feedback. Everything from spelling mistakes to logic errors or contradictions would be very welcome.

You can purchase the first novel and read a brief introduction to the universe through the links below:

The Chrishanger

An Introduction To The Morningstar Universe

I hope to keep a steady pace, but there will be a pause - my family and I have a lot to deal with right now.

I’ve been working on expanding my list of ways for people to follow me. Please click on the link to sign up for my mailing list, newsletter and much - much - more.

The Chrishanger

Thank you

Chris

PS – if you want to write yourself, please check out the post here - Fantastic Schools - Call For Submissions . We are looking for more submissions.

PPS – I’m looking for more beta readers. Please PM me if interested.

 

Prologue

From: Leo Morningstar: The Growing Years. Baen Historical Press. Daybreak. Year 307.

It is not an exaggeration to say, by this point, that Leo Morningstar’s career was strikingly unconventional.

Deputy Commandant Horace Valerian’s plot to get rid of him, by making him de facto commander of an outdated vessel and sending him into exile on the rim, backfired spectacularly and ensured he would enjoy the kind of fame that would make it very difficult for his superiors to sideline him in future. His independent command was briefly superseded by a stint as XO, thanks to the manipulations of another superior officer, but he returned to the command chair soon enough. However, this created an obvious problem. What were his superiors going to do with an officer who could not be pushed onto a more conventional career track nor allowed to jump ahead of older and more experienced officers?

On the surface, this dilemma appears to make little sense. Why could such a junior officer not be sidelined? Why could he not be told, in effect, to wait his turn?

The answer lies in Daybreak’s political system. Because military service was the key to citizenship and political influence, naval heroes were regarded as de facto rock stars. A man who commanded a victorious or spearheaded a successful campaign, could parlay his new status into political power. If he chose to run for office, he could be sure of gaining power and that power would tend to lead to more military positions. A particularly skilful military commander, such as Grand Senator (Admiral) Sullivan, could move from the military sphere to the political and back again, gaining in power and influence with each successful campaign. At this point in his career, Leo Morningstar was far less influential than Sullivan, his patron, but that did not mean he could be safely discarded. Even if Morningstar himself had not wished to blow his own trumpet, and he would be a very unusual Daybreaker if he did not, others would certainly have blown it for him.

This meant his career could not possibly be conventional. Assigned to carry out a top-secret intelligence gathering mission, he succeeded brilliantly; assigned to prepare a ragtag fleet to enhance the sector’s defence force, he succeeded brilliantly. Assigned to command a gunboat carrier, a decision that caused no end of debate in Admiralty House, he succeeded brilliantly. The handful of controversies surrounding his career, including a decision to defend colonials whose loyalty to Daybreak had been called into question, were not sufficient to undermine him. He could not be ignored. Nor could he be promoted into the position he had earned.

And, as Daybreak prepared to go on the offensive, and new admirals started competing for political and military power, Leo Morningstar found himself once again at the heart of the storm and caught up in a political power game that threatened everything he had built for himself.

 

Prologue II

There were times when Admiral Lloyd Bridges thought, in all honesty, that the universe was conspiring against him.

A year of careful political manoeuvring, of working with officers he needed and stepping in those who threatened to get in his way, of flattering and manipulating politicians who could promote his career and undermining hard-bitten men who wouldn’t push for his promotion if he held a gun to their heads … a year of careful work, all eliminated in a second by a truly random stroke of bad luck. He wanted to laugh, and scream in frustration, as he eyed the sealed orders in his private safe. His orders to use them, when the squadron reached Portahaven, could no longer be carried out. It would be career suicide. And yet, when the orders had been issued, it had seemed that nothing could stop his career from reaching heights beyond his wildest dreams …

But who would have thought that Admiral Cox, of all people, would pull off a stunning naval victory?

The man was old, set in his ways. He’d been nothing more than a glorified placeholder, an administrator on a base deep within friendly territory; he’d been a referee when two captains, military officers with actual experience, came to blows … how the hell had he fought and won a battle so intense, so costly to the rebels, that it might prove decisive? The orders were worse than useless, now that Admiral Cox basked in the glory of a genuine victory. Sure, Lloyd could still implement them, still relieve Admiral Cox of his command, but it would be a political disaster back home. The public would want Lloyd’s scalp, while his patrons and military superiors would stand aside and allow them to defenestrate his career. He’d spend the rest of his service on an asteroid mining station in the middle of nowhere, the kind of place where careers went to die. It was hardly unprecedented. The higher you rose, there further there was to fall.

Lloyd ground his teeth in frustration. He was young for his role, young enough to dream of many decades in the command chair before he grew too old and doddering to serve effectively. He had thought it a perfect opportunity to take Admiral Cox’s fleet, turn it into an offensive weapon of war and attack the rebels, driving them back and winning eternal glory … glory that had gone to Admiral Cox instead. The man should have played it carefully, not gambled on a single decisive blow … Lloyd stared at the report, his eyes scanning the lines in hopes of seeing something he’d missed. But there was nothing. Admiral Cox had secured his position, while Lloyd’s dreams of commanding a fleet in battle – and a glorious victory that would bring both military and political success – had died before he’d even had a chance to implement them.

If I’d fucked up, he thought as he stared at the starchart, it would be one thing. But I lost through sheer dumb luck.

His eyes lingered on a handful of lines on the report. The writer had been very vague about just why Admiral Cox had gone on the offensive, something that stood out to anyone who knew that military reports were supposed to be masterpieces of plain blunt speaking. Speaking one’s mind was a Daybreak virtue – not for them the euphemisms and evasions of whose who had no pride in their homeworld or love for their culture, never the mealy-mouthed whining of cowards unwilling to look facts in the face – but there was enough vagueness in the report to draw his attention. Odd, when most reports gloated over the number of enemy ships destroyed; curious, when the writer could normally be relied upon to blow his own trumpet so loudly no one else needed to bother. Most senior officers could be relied upon to have patrons and clients on Daybreak, singing their praises and applauding loudly – sometimes literally – whenever their names were mentioned, but Admiral Cox’s career would have advanced faster if he had supporters back home.

Interesting, he mused. Very interesting indeed.

He scanned through the reports, thinking hard. Leo Morningstar. It all came back to Morningstar. The report from the fleet base was vague in the extreme, but it was clear that Admiral Cox – the senile old man – had relieved Morningstar of his command, on the grounds he was too young and inexperienced for his post. Lloyd snorted in disbelief. The former was hardly an sensible objection, when the officer in question had commanded very effectively in several engagements; the latter was even worse, when there were no captains, from bright young things to doddering old fools, with any experience in commanding a gunboat carrier and leading gunboats against the enemy. Lloyd felt an odd flicker of sympathy, mingled with wariness. Leo Morningstar had had a very unusual career indeed, driven by an ambition that matched Lloyd’s own. He could be a powerful ally – his fame gave him an edge lacking from his formal rank – or an equally dangerous rival. And he had patrons back home too …

Lloyd closed his eyes for a long moment, then reread the report. The moments of vagueness were as good as a radio beacon, now he knew what to look for. Admiral Cox had been very vague on just who had had the idea to launch a counterattack … Morningstar. It had to have been Morningstar. Admiral Cox was not the sort of person to act quickly, even if the enemy was offering him their back, and he was honest enough to note it if it had been one of his squadron commanders who came up with the idea. Morningstar was the only one where there was any motive to hide it, although Lloyd doubted the cover-up would last for long. If Morningstar wasn’t as adroit at self-promotion as the rest of the navy’s up and coming officers, he’d correct that oversight in his education soon enough. And that meant …

His intercom pinged. “Sir,” Commander Olivia Lopez said. His aide was the descendent of two colonials, her career driven by a grim determination to prove herself worthy of the citizenship they’d earned. It was harder for her now, thanks to the treachery that had nearly cost Daybreak the war before a single shot had been fired, but she hadn’t wimped out. Instead, she’d shown the gritty determination that had made the Daybreak Republic master of the known universe. “We just received a message from System Command. Admiral Cox requests the pleasure of your company at 1700.”

I’m sure he does, Lloyd thought, coldly. Did the older man know Lloyd had orders to relieve him of command? Did he suspect Lloyd’s ambition? Or did he think he could make use of Lloyd and then sideline him? He’d hardly be the first to try. This is a setback. Nothing more. I will prevail.

He took a breath. “Inform System Command that I look forward to meeting Admiral Cox,” he said. It wasn’t entirely a lie. He’d had the geneses of an idea while reading the files and plenty of time to turn it into something workable, something that would allow him to win fame and glory and … power. He would be the greatest naval hero in history. Or dead. “And then signal my officers. Inform them that we have an operation to plan.”

“Yes, sir.”

Lloyd sat back in his chair. It would be a gamble, of course, and he could lose … but what was the fun in playing if you could afford to lose? If he’d wanted to play it safe, he would have gone into accountancy, or librarianship, or perhaps even writing. God knew he was good at promoting himself and drawing up fantastic scenarios, the latter much easier if you were writing fiction and didn’t have to worry about little things like human decency, basic research and the laws of physics. You could just make up your facts and no one would care. You couldn’t do that in the navy. Sure, you could give yourself a stature you did not deserve, and promote yourself while carefully downplaying your rivals, but outright fictionalising your reports would get you nothing more than a one-way trip out the airlock. Harsh, yet fair. No one could be allowed to cross the line.

His lips quirked. Perhaps he should quit while he was ahead. It would be the safe thing to do. But he had never wanted to play it safe.

He knew he was a gambler, one who had won time and time again. He wanted to play for the very highest stakes, to reach for military and political glory … to ride the tiger, knowing that one slip would mean certain death. Admiral Cox winning a battle was a setback, but he’d been careful to make sure he was the only one who knew about the orders, the orders that could no longer be carried out without blowing up his own career. The prize was still within reach. It would be a gamble, true, but he could no more let it pass than he could stop breathing. And if Leo Morningstar chose to cooperate, there was no limit to what they could do.

Lloyd smirked. In many ways, Leo Morningstar and himself were cut from the same cloth. Lloyd understood Morningstar very well. The younger man could never resist a chance to reach for the stars …

And together, they could accomplish great things.