by T. R. Harris
“It is what we do as scientists,” Vodenik said with pride.
“Is there anyway of testing the field?”
“Not without a module,” said Kovach. “But we assure you; the field will work. But do not let the field lose power. It’s affects are instantaneous, as is the recovery. Kanan will be aware that he is in the field and he will be on guard for any opportunity to escape.”
“Again, good to know,” Adam then looked at Copernicus. “Let’s just hope none of this will be necessary and the Juireans kick Kanan’s ass.”
Copernicus snorted. “You’re kidding, aren’t you? Have you not read the series? Of course, it will be necessary. Why else have we mentioned it?”
“No spoilers, buddy. It’s against the rules.”
Coop laughed. “Sorry, I forgot. But seriously, do you have any idea how to get Kanan into the ship?”
It was Adam’s turn to grin. “I might have something in mind.”
Chapter 12
Overlord Oculus Ra Norack was frustrated, angry and disgusted, all at the same time. But no one on the bridge of the UN-328 would know it. He remained the stoic, majestic leader that earned him a spot at the head of the massive Expansion fleet nearing the DZ-68 star system where the planet Tarenuga was located. He didn’t anticipate having to enter the system, since the coming battle was going to involve the largest number of warships since the Nuorean incursion over fifteen years ago. Both fleets would require the most maneuvering room possible.
But that wasn’t the reason he carried the emotions he did. It was because of that insufferable Human, Jeanne Euker.
Oculus had studied the data provided by both the Humans and his own intelligence sources, so he understood the threat they were facing. The Aris were a known quantity in the galaxy, and anything having to do with their technology was to be respected, if not feared. And now his fleet had been maneuvered in to facing the enemy by itself. It was all politics, a way for the Expansion to prove its worth to the two-faced refugees who supposedly controlled the Dead Zone. If it were not for the countering force of the Union, Oculus and his ships would have subjugated the region long before, and without having to worry about what a disparate group of displaced natives had to say about it.
The coming battle was to be against an un-tested enemy with weapons and ships of unknown strength. This was not how Oculus would have preferred to conduct war. He much preferred to know what he was up against.
But because of politics, it would be the Humans sitting back and observing while Expansion units fought and died. And just so the Humans would not gain a symbolic foothold in the region.
Oculus knew the numbers, which only peripherally made him feel better. He had eight hundred vessels under his command, including one hundred ten support ships, and with an additional two thousand fighters in the launch bays of most of his warships. Within those units, there were only sixteen hundred Juireans. The rest of the crews were comprised of aliens from throughout the Expansion. That was how Juireans crewed their ships and had for a long time. There weren’t enough Juireans to fully crew all the warships in the Expansion military. So, in a worst-case scenario, the most Juireans Overlord Oculus stood to lose was one thousand, six hundred individuals. It would still be a tragedy, but not compared to the fourteen thousand aliens who would lose their lives.
But these thoughts only softened Oculus sour emotions, not replaced them. Even in victory, his fleet would lose a sizeable number of warships, assets that had considerable value and were hard to replace. The Humans would not suffer so, and they knew it. At the conclusion of the battle, the Union fleet could potentially outnumber that of Oculus’ armada. What they would do in that situation was what troubled the Overlord. He knew the Humans to be a conniving species prone to deception.
Again, all this came about because of the politics of the Dead Zone. Why the Authority had allowed itself to be placed in such a precarious position was anyone’s guess. And although at the moment Overlord Oculus despised the Human Ambassador Jeanne Euker, he had to admire her ability to construct a situation that was entirely to her advantage. Oculus hoped one day to reverse their roles.
But first he had to defeat something called a Kanan.
The Overlord had his First Phase ships lined up in a typical C-A-C arrangement, forming a wide phalanx designed to penetrate and separate an enemy formation. His faster ships were held in two large clusters on the flanks of the First Phase, ready to harass any of the enemy that sought to reform. He knew most of the First Phase would be destroyed; that was their purpose. They would not only sacrifice their ships to the cause, but also litter what was the center of the battlefield with substantial debris. Gravity drives could scoop up the fragments, but only if they approached head-on and at sub-light speed. To veer to either side would invite collisions with huge chucks of metal, items which diffusion shields could not deflect. What this tactic would produce is a battle along the outer edges of the debris field, a place where the bulk of the Overlord’s forces would be placed.
Oculus knew he was going up against artificial intelligence. In his experience, computers had never mastered the art of war, although they could undoubtedly sight you page and verse from every great tactical manual in the galaxy. What they lacked was intuition and imagination. Oculus would use this to his advantage. He knew the standard, expected way to conduct a battle such as this. But somewhere during the engagement, he would do something that even he wouldn’t see coming. What it would be, he didn’t know. He would make it up as he went. It was something the computers would never anticipate.
But first he had to lull the machines into a false sense of security. He would do the expected, and then study their reaction.
Overlord Oculus huddled over the computer scope studying the read out with his second in command along with a third officer.
“The signal is clean,” said Guard-One Sans Fe Loxpal, the master of weapons aboard the flagship. “We were informed it would be different. The steadiness is what bothers me. It is pure. The ships are as fast as we were told.”
“Yes, told,” the Overlord growled. “Told too late. We should have known of this threat long before it was revealed. Any estimate as to the speed?”
Sans shook his magnificent mane of green hair. “It would only be a guess, but I would say twice that of our fastest ships. And we know not of their armament. Those readings are as unusual as the engine signatures.”
“Dark energy drives and weapons, from what we were told,” said the executive officer, Overlord Vank Da Roew. He looked up at a clock on the bulkhead. “It is time,” he stated with finality and no sign of hesitation. He was a Juirean; half the bridge crew on the flagship was, unlike on most other ships of the fleet. Their lives belonged to the Authority and to the Expansion. No individual meant more than any other. They would do what was ordered and without question. That also went for the commanders of the First Phase.
“Commence the attack,” Oculus stated calmly, three words that sent over fourteen hundred ships on a collision course with destiny.
From his command chair, Overlord Oculus watched as the first two groups of combatants came together. Graphics filled the screens showing what was expected; the enemy warships were a lot faster than the Juireans. They also seemed willing to match ship for ship, holding back the bulk of their fleet while only eighty ships went out to meet the eighty Juirean vessels.
And then the battle formed. Oculus sat with rapt attention, studying the movements of the alien warcraft, looking for any sign that they had superior skill in piloting and tactics. His first impressions were encouraging. The black Gracilian-built warships acted much as the Juireans ships did, albeit somewhat faster. It also seemed as if the aliens were not utilizing their speed to the best of their ability. They would line up on a target and then streak in, maintaining course throughout the run. They came in fast, but they didn’t employ any evasive maneuvers. Several of the enemy ships winked out, although matched by a slightly higher number of Expansion ships
.
If this was to be a numbers game, then Oculus would achieve an overwhelming victory. Even if he survived with a mere hundred vessels, the enemy would be completely defeated since the six hundred ships were all they had. In a normal engagement, the loser would be weakened by the loss, but not completely defeated, not until the last ship in all their fleets was destroyed or they sued for peace. Yes, this would mean the Humans would be the ultimate victors in this battle, but there was far more to the Expansion military than simply this one fleet. That could not be said for the Kanans.
It only took a half an hour for his First Phase to be defeated, as was expected. And as also expected, the enemy force was split and moving to either side of the debris field. Oculus sent in his fighters. The enemy had none. All their ships were identical, while the fighters came from a variety of Expansion warships and numbered two thousand. Various readouts confirmed that the aliens had a special kind of shielding, but as the First Phase had proved, they could be destroyed. The fighters would have trouble destroying any sizeable number of Gracilian warships, but it would provide Oculus with the time he needed to bring up his larger vessels.
A runner came to him with a datapad, the summary report of the first engagement. Oculus scanned it and frowned.
“Are these numbers correct,” he asked the messenger.
The young Guard shrugged. “They are direct from Central Combat.”
Overlord Vank heard the question and came to the captain’s station. Oculus handed him the datapad.
“I would have assumed a more even result,” he said, “considering what we saw on the graphic. Three to one is not good. Eighty of our ships lost compared to only twenty-four of theirs. A strategy of attrition could prove unwise.”
“I realize that, Vank.” Oculus did some calculations on the armrest computer at his station. Even if all seven hundred of our battle craft are lost, that would still leave over three hundred fifty enemy vessels. Without replacements, there are some in the Authority who would accept that result. Another fleet could put an end to the threat.”
“A Human fleet,” said Vank, his impression of the idea evident in his tone.
“That is correct. Then they would claim the final victory and the associated glory. It is time to try a different tact.”
“By your command, my Lord.”
“Withdraw the fighters. Sound a general retreat”—he scanned a star map on his armrest—“to the Uan’san system. Have the trailing ships lay mines.”
“A retreat, my Lord?” Vank questioned. It was such an out of context order that Vank wasn’t sure he’d heard it correctly.
“Yes,” said Oculus. “Be assured, Lord Vank, it is not our final maneuver. Yet even as your reaction has demonstrated, it is something unexpected. Hopefully, it will be as unexpected to the Kanans.”
“Yes, my Lord. I understand now.”
Vank rushed off to implement the orders.
Oculus watched the screen as his fleet broke ranks and ran away. To his surprise, the machine-piloted spacecraft hesitated for a moment before giving chase. This opened up a small gap between the forces, a gap that would rapidly be filled with magnetic mines, as well as the much faster enemy vessels.
Explosions registered on the graphics, as the mines caught a few of the pursuing warships. But it wasn’t enough. Then Oculus noticed that the enemy ships tended to stay in formation, even as mines went off around them. They were disciplined, as one would expect from machines following their programming.
“Split the force!” Oculus commanded. “Separate at ninety-degree angles. Continue to lay mines.”
The second unexpected maneuver caused another slight delay in the reactions of the enemy armada. But they obliged, splitting their own force and following the Juireans.
More enemy ships disappeared from the screen, the result of the mines. A quick check of the numbers now showed a near parity in losses. The strategy was working. If Oculus could keep using the mines, he may have a—
It was the Kanan forces turn to do the unexpected. Oculus leaned forward when all the enemy ships bolted away at oblique angles and engaged their gravity drives at full speed. Both clusters of enemy ships were soon parallel to the Juirean vessels and pulling away. In a few minutes they would be ahead of the fleeing vessels.
“Maintain separation,” Oculus called out. “Do not engage unless necessary.”
Slowly, the two main branches of the Expansion fleet were being forced back together. Kanan’s fleet was herding the Juireans into a single ragged formation, while at the same time racing ahead. At one point, the enemy sent ships across the bows of the forward units. A running battle ensued, which Oculus could see he was losing badly. Reluctantly, he told his forces to reverse course and again to maintain distance between them and the enemy. More mines were laid.
Overlord Vank rushed up to the command chair.
“We are being driven back to the mine field we previously laid,” he reported.
“I am aware of that. Be sure to mark the field clearly. Give the individual commanders the discretion to avoid the mines.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
More orders were barked. Oculus watched the forward screen. He had only one cluster of warships at the moment, and without a discernable formation. The enemy vessels had slowed, content to use their superior speed to jump in front of any Expansion warship that tried to break from the main group. The mine field was getting closer, and within a few minutes the leading edge of the cluster was within it.
There came a marked decrease in the speed of the Juirean warships as they carefully threaded their way through the field. This bunched up the vessels behind them and the Kanan forces began to pick them off with ease.
The UN-328—Oculus’ flagship—was in the center of the cluster and the hardest to reach, at least for the moment. The first ships navigating the mine field emerged into clear space, only to be confronted by small squadrons of killer enemy warcraft. The rest of Oculus’ fleet was slowly being eaten away at the edges. The numbers told the story. He was down to one hundred nine warships, the enemy just under five hundred. The fate of his fleet was sealed.
He gave the order to scatter, providing the authority for each captain to steer their own way clear of the battlefield. The UN-328 attempted to evacuate the area, as well. Oculus continued to watch the screen with sadness and despair. Although the battle was over—and the Kanan forces won—the enemy ships weren’t letting up. They were chasing every Juirean warship, sometimes using five or six vessels to pounce on one Expansion ship. Oculus knew what was happening. Kanan would not let a single ship survive. The Overlord grimaced when he saw a detachment of enemy vessels head off toward his support vessels; fuel ships, maintenance vessels and the like, ships that were no threat to him. These slower vessels turned to run, but they didn’t get far.
The UN-328 was a Juirean Class-5, one of the most powerful battleships in the galaxy. It put up a respectable fight before the dark-energy weapons and superior speed and maneuverability of the Gracilian ships tore the flagship to pieces.
Jack Brown sat alone in a dimly lit situation room at the Human garrison as the reports filtered in from the battlefield. The numbers were beyond depressing. Not a single unit from the Juirean fleet survived. Even six of the observation vessels Jack sent to monitor the battle were also destroyed.
The final tally showed Kanan with four hundred eighty-one remaining ships from his original five hundred ninety-eight. Four hundred eighty-one ships, Jack thought. It only took one hundred seventeen vessels to take out over eight hundred. Jack would take that kill ratio any day of the week. Unfortunately, the allies were on the wrong side of the ledger.
Jack looked at another monitor, this one showing the stern faces of Adam Cain and Copernicus Smith. He shook his head. “Okay, boys. Looks like you’re up. Make it count.”
Adam and Coop didn’t say anything. Instead, Adam simply leaned forward and cut the link. Jack could imagine what was going through the minds of his two
operatives. There was now only one chance, and it all hinged on two fearless Humans against an army of killer machines.
Chapter 13
Copernicus already had the stolen DE ship within the Tarenuga star system by the time the battle between the Juireans and Kanan’s service orbs began. The fight only lasted six hours, extended somewhat by Kanan’s insistence that every Juirean vessel be hunted down and destroyed. It would then take another two hours for the bulk of the fleet to return to Tarenuga.
The Humans landed at the far end of the huge shipyard that served as Kanan’s home base, the only dark-energy ship there at the time. The others were involved in the battle. A large encampment of colonists surrounded the complex, housed in crude tents and other makeshift shelters, having been pulled away from their more permanent homes on the planet. It looked more like a long-term refugee camp than a settlement for workers. The atmosphere of Tarenuga was one of the cleanest in the Zone, and the smell wasn’t as foul as on most other worlds. Originally, Kanan enlisted two thousand workers to service his six hundred warships. The vessels didn’t need a lot of work, but Kanan made some modifications to the vessels from their original design in preparation for the upcoming battle, requiring physical labor that the service orbs were not built to do. And now that the surviving ships would be returning from battle, some with damage requiring repair, none of the colonists were allowed to return to their main settlements. Kanan’s additional two hundred service orbs kept everyone in line.
A couple of hours after landing, the first of the DE ships returned to the shipyard. These were the ones with the most damage, having been released from clean-up duties so repairs could be started as soon as possible. After a while, the stolen Gracilian ship didn’t stand out as much.