Alliance

by S. H. Jucha

  “The station might have been expecting us, but we’ll have our work cut out for us to gain the attention of a committee for an interview,” Ophelia said. “It usually takes them a while to respond, and they don’t usually interview right away. In your case, this process might be accelerated.”

  As the group exited the bay, they were met by a burly, dark-furred individual, wearing a full-length tunic.

  “I’m Fistonia, the Hyronzy station director,” the individual announced. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to the Tsargit council. They’re waiting to speak with you.”

  “As I said,” Ophelia mumbled to herself, “in your case, it might be quicker.”

  The group followed Fistonia through the many levels and corridors of the massive Hyronzy Station until they reached the council chambers doors, which were tall, wide, and made of embossed metal.

  Inside the chambers, the Omnians and Patrice wouldn’t have known it, but there had been one important change in the layout from the time of Harbour and Jessie. Petitioners no longer had to stand like trial defendants before the councilors. A second broad curved table, similar to the one the councilors sat behind, faced the council’s table. It had been requested by a previous lead councilor, Solseena of the Sylians. It was ordered by her to remind the councilors of the equality of the races. In short, gone were the days of Lead Councilor Ulgart and his ilk.

  The group waited while techs arranged chairs behind the curved table to accommodate the various physiques.

  “I’m Lead Councilor Jarmonin of Norsitchia. The council welcomes you and begs your indulgence, while we skip formal introductions. There is an urgent message that arrived four cycles ago from Crocia. We would like you to view it before we begin.”

  Jarmonin’s words prompted rumblings from Bortoth and Daktora. Crocians weren’t the type of individuals to send anything urgently.

  Denthra’s cube message played for the council and the visitors. It began with Denthra introducing his position as the Norloth’s senior member and describing the events that had recently unfolded. His final words spoke of the inbound fleet nearing the dome and the need to ensure the message was sent in case the dome was attacked. After his message conclusion, images of the giant ships were shown, including those that detailed the freighter’s destruction.

  When the message ended, Jarmonin said, “Expedition Leaders Olawale Wombo and Patrice Morris, the council hopes that you can elaborate on what you’ve seen. Are these human ships?”

  “No,” Olawale replied definitively. “We’ve received reports from Omnia, our home world, describing events that have taken place far from here. Humans have been fighting an enemy bent on the destruction of sentient races before or soon after they achieved spaceflight. Our leader located the ruler’s domain and ended the reign. Unfortunately, that freed the subordinated races in that area of space called the federacy. They have the opportunity to do as they wish.”

  “Do you know who crews these ships?” a councilor asked.

  “No,” Olawale replied. “It’s estimated that there as many races in the federacy as there are in the alliance.”

  “Can you tell us what might be their intentions?” another councilor asked.

  “I can’t,” Olawale replied, “but if that federacy fleet crossed this much space, it’s probably for the purpose of colonization. If they make planetside, it’ll be because they believe they found a compatible world.”

  Bortoth and Daktora had become agitated by the exchange. Their deep rumblings were felt in the bodies of every individual in the council chamber.

  “How can you be sure these are federacy ships?” Jarmonin asked.

  “I’m Commodore Lucia Bellardo, Lead Councilor Jarmonin. I’ve fought beside our leader, Alex Racine, for decades before joining this expedition. I can tell you, without doubt, that these are battleships.”

  “We know these are fighting ships, Commodore. That was obvious from the freighter’s destruction,” a councilor interrupted.

  “Your lack of warfare knowledge is obvious,” Lucia retorted. “I would suggest you listen and learn.”

  The councilor who had challenged Lucia was quailed into silence, but not before glancing left and right for support and finding none.

  Lucia eyed Jarmonin, who signaled for her to continue.

  “As I was saying,” Lucia continued, “these are battleships. That term refers to a specific design, a class of vessels. There are no greater warships that we’ve encountered than these. Humans have nothing to best them one on one, not even three or four to one. You saw the missiles they launched. According to the reports I’ve received from Fleet Admiral Tachenko, those aren’t the largest missiles they carry.”

  “What would be the purpose of even greater missiles if they are the greatest ships?” a councilor asked.

  “Admiral Tachenko referred to an engagement with a fleet like this,” Lucia replied. “The purpose of that fleet was to eliminate a race’s home world. The battleships launched gigantic nuclear-tipped missiles to do that. The admiral referred to those enormous missiles as planet killers.”

  “You were telling us how you know these ships came from the federacy,” Jarmonin reminded Lucia.

  “The design of the ships is one thing,” Lucia explained. “Alex and his fleet have only encountered battleships in federacy space, as far as I’ve heard. However, the clinching fact is this fleet’s formation. Admiral Tachenko said every federacy fleet sailed in that distinctive wedge. Don’t ask me why they do.”

  “Have your ships defeated an enemy fleet like this?” a councilor asked.

  “Alex’s fleet has done it,” Olawale replied, “but his fleet is vastly greater than ours. Our four warships would be annihilated before we got within striking distance.”

  “Councilors,” Patrice said, “please be aware that our journey was intended to be a peaceful expedition to search for human colonists who launched from Earth. We found them. They’re the Pyreans. Sol, our home world system, only recently received Omnian technology, courtesy of Olawale Wombo and his associates. The only commander and crew with battle experience are Commodore Bellardo and her people. They occupy a single Trident, an Omnian warship design. The other three Tridents are crewed by humans who’ve never engaged in a battle on the scale that the commodore has described.”

  The councilors quietly put their heads together in small groups to discuss what they heard. When they were done, Jarmonin addressed Olawale and Patrice.

  “The council accepts that you can do nothing to relieve the Crocian home world of this threat, at this time,” Jarmonin said. “Nonetheless, we feel that humans have precipitated this event by fomenting the exodus from federacy space of belligerent races. We expect you to assume some level of responsibility for this aggressive fleet’s actions.”

  “Councilor Jarmonin, I’m Commandant Ophelia Tuttle here to represent the Pyrean president, Leslie Finian. I’m not sure what you mean by your remarks. I wonder if this council is aware that these visitors have led the effort to reacquire the Sylian dome.”

  “We are,” Jarmonin replied.

  “And are you aware that the SADEs, two of whom sit here, have taught these and other dome administrators how to block a gate from the Colony’s remote access?”

  “We are,” Jarmonin intoned.

  “Then, when there’s an opportunity to solicit their help to push back our ancient enemy, why would you be so foolish as to threaten to lay on their shoulders the responsibility for a foreign fleet finding its way to alliance space?” Ophelia asked hotly.

  Jarmonin stared with hostile rebuke at Ophelia, and she glared back.

  “If I might suggest, Lead Councilor Jarmonin,” a councilor interrupted, and Jarmonin tore his eyes away from Ophelia and signaled his assent.

  “We’re appreciative of what’s been done for the Sylians,” the councilor said in a conciliatory manner. “What was the reason that the Tsargit was sought?”

  “Before that question is answered, let me respon
d to Councilor Jarmonin’s statements,” Olawale said evenly. In some respects, he thought he was dealing with the attitude of a United Earth senior administrator again. Little did he know that Lead Councilor Jarmonin was a vast improvement over Ulgart, the individual who Harbour and Jessie had encountered.

  “Omnians do take responsibility for their actions and the consequences,” Olawale continued. “By birth, I’m an Earther from a time when I wasn’t proud to admit that. Alex Racine and his people rescued me and others from that ugly period. I’m proud to be an Omnian, and as an Omnian, I know it’s my duty to send an urgent message to Alex. I’ll inform him of the presence of a federacy fleet, and do you know what he’ll do?”

  Olawale’s question was rhetorical. He didn’t expect any councilor to attempt to reply, and none of them did.

  “Ask any Omnian here or on our ships,” Olawale said. “They know the answer, and it’ll be the same from every one of them. Alex will gather his fleet and sail here. He’ll have that battleship fleet heading for federacy space, or it’ll be destroyed, if the commanders fail to take the hint.”

  Olawale sat back in his chair, seemingly spent from his outburst. In point of fact, he was embarrassed. He didn’t think that he’d represented Omnians well with his reaction to Jarmonin. Contrary to his own opinion, the other Omnians sent him their thanks for pushing back against the lead councilor’s insinuations.

  “You might ask what will happen to Omnian warships if and when these two fleets clash,” Lucia said. “Crew will be killed; ships will be destroyed. Alex knows that. Every Omnian aboard his ships knows that. Still, they’ll come. Never lecture us about our responsibilities. We would never have let the Colony advance as far as they’ve gotten in alliance space. The Tsargit should have whole-heartedly joined the Pyrean Resistance the day it was formed.”

  An uncomfortable silence filled the chambers, and a councilor suggested a break. Olawale and company were led to a comfortable antechamber and offered water, other liquids, and a small repast.

  “So much for diplomacy,” Olawale opined.

  “I concur,” Lucia said. She dropped onto a couch, feeling guilty about her tirade. She spotted Jess with two cups of water in his hands, caught his eye, and patted the place next to her.

  It was a motion that Juliette caught. She was pleased to see it and chose not to comment to Lucia.

  Olawale received a lengthy message that Esteban and Juliette had prepared for Alex. Olawale reviewed it, made some minor changes, and sent,

  After a short while, the council reconvened. Jarmonin opened the proceedings again. “I’ve been reminded by others on this council that some of my remarks were less than gracious,” he said. “I apologize if I impugned your society.”

  “And we’ve been less than diplomatic in our responses,” Olawale replied graciously.

  Jarmonin nodded his acceptance of their mutual willingness to set aside the poor start. “You were asked a question about your presence here,” he reminded Olawale.

  “I’ll let Captain Jess Cinders respond,” Olawale said, waving a hand toward him.

  Immediately, eyes, orbs, and sensory organs swung toward Jess, and many councilors sat upright.

  Lucia sent privately to Olawale.

  “I’ll not go into any detailed explanation,” Jess began. “Suffice it to say, the effort to take the Sylian dome cost Omnian and Earther lives. As Patrice Morris said, they didn’t come here expecting a fight. However, she’s offered to supply us with reinforcements. She needs data, star coordinates to be exact, about the locations of the lost domes. We need unfettered access to a committee that might track the Colony’s incursions and have the data we need. With the committee’s help and the SADEs’ skills, I think we can provide Patrice Morris with the information she requires.”

  “With these star coordinates, Earther ships will sail to the usurped domes and evict the Colony?” Jarmonin asked.

  “It’s more complicated than that,” Patrice replied. “This must be a coordinated operation.”

  “With whom?” a councilor inquired.

  “Earthers can provide additional forces, but we aren’t the experts at taking a dome. Those individuals are seated here,” Patrice explained. “If they aren’t leading the domes’ assault-and-console-recovery effort, then Earth’s forces would be throwing away their lives for nothing.”

  “Captain Cinders, are you certain that you can identify the data that’s needed with a committee’s help?” Jarmonin asked.

  “Yes,” Jess replied firmly, “although we’ll also need complete control over the Hyronzy dome for about a Pyrean hour.”

  “Jess,” Ophelia said, “why don’t you discuss the idea you had when the commodore spoke about the fleet’s losses at Sylia and Patrice offered sailing to Sol to convince her government to supply forces.”

  Jess regarded Ophelia with the strangest of expressions. He knew the thought that he had at the time, but he couldn’t conceive of how she knew it. As he stared at Ophelia, she shrugged and tapped her temple. In response, his mouth fell open.

  “Captain Cinders,” Jarmonin called. “Do you have something that you’d like to share with the council?”

  “Hmm ... yes,” Jess replied, tearing his attention away from Ophelia. “I would ask the council this question. If additional forces are what our visitors need to take retake the domes, why would we ask Patrice Morris to sail to Sol to procure them?”

  “What are you suggesting, Captain?” a councilor asked.

  “It might be my turn to be impolitic,” Tacnock said. “The suggestion made by Captain Cinders is clear to everyone on this side of the chambers. The alliance should call for the number of volunteers who will be needed. Based on our experience, I would expect the need for thirty to forty more defenders at each dome. They must be armed and be proficient with Loopah weapons.”

  “You can only investigate one dome at a time. Why wouldn’t the same forty defenders be used at each successive dome?” a councilor asked.

  Borthar shook his long snout at the inane question. “Councilor, Captain Tacnock is giving you an estimate of the losses we expect from the volunteers at each dome,” he said.

  The councilor who asked the question was stunned at the casualness with which the captain had requested nearly two hundred sentients, who he expected to be sent to their deaths.

  “Did you lose that many in taking the Sylian dome?” Jarmonin asked.

  “No,” Sam replied, “but the men and women we lost were security-trained forces. They were experienced with weapons, tactics, and encounters with their enemies.”

  “Then how do you expect our volunteers to succeed in place of your well-trained forces?” a councilor asked.

  “Not well,” Sam allowed regretfully. “That’s why Captain Tacnock requested twice the number we lost at the first dome.”

  “Would you want all the volunteers here before you begin?” Jarmonin asked.

  Olawale queried Esteban for space on the Rêveur, and the SADE replied the liner could handle an additional two hundred individuals, although some would be sharing cabins.

  “Our ship, the Rêveur, could manage all of them,” Olawale replied.

  “If the elements came together, the star coordinates and the volunteers, would you undertake this endeavor?” Jarmonin asked.

  Olawale sighed, thinking this was how Alex felt when he’d stumbled into someone else’s problem. One at a time, he turned his attention to those who’d taken the first dome. Each nodded in agreement with the task of taking back the domes. Finally, he turned to Patrice, who answered simply, “Yes.”

  “With the commandant’s permission, I will assist in the assaults,” Aputi said.

  “Permission given,” Ophelia replied, “although you’ll make a pretty big target, Lieutenant.”

  “No bigger than my brother,” Aputi riposted, hooking a thumb at Sam. “If he can survive the e
ngagement, I can too.”

  “We’re agreed,” Olawale said to the council. “You get us two hundred weapons-trained volunteers, who are experienced with Loopah launchers. Have them bring —” He stopped and looked down the table at Jess, who was frowning in thought. Then Jess regarded Juliette.

  “On average, Captain, I noted that the assault team members consumed an average of nearly four drums,” Juliette said. “However, that belies the fact that the true range was about one to eight drums.”

  The defenders who took the Sylian dome knew what Juliette was implying. The first individuals to fall wouldn’t have expended many darts. Those still standing at the end of an assault, might well empty their satchels.

  “If we take back five domes, each volunteer must bring twenty drums,” Jess said to Jarmonin. To those at his table, he added, “We can redistribute drums after a dome is taken.”

  “In addition, we need drum resupply,” Tacnock said. It was his turn to need Juliette. She signed three hundred forty, and he repeated the number to Jarmonin.

  “If you’ll lead us to the committee we need, we’ll get started,” Olawale said.

  As the group exited the council chambers led by the Hyronzy station director, Olawale amended his message. Then to Esteban he said, “Send it.”

  The SADE added the Crocian imagery and the star coordinates of the systems that they’d collected to date. The message arrived at the Rêveur’s controller by way of the traveler in the station’s bay. Then it was beamed out on a narrow focus toward Sol to be sent on to the human colonies. It would take nearly half an Omnian year for Alex to receive the message and arrive. That was if the fleet was still in the colonies.

  Aputi pulled Sam aside and whispered, “Okay, tell me what I’ve just gotten myself into.”

  -24-

  Dorgatha

  The Packeoes were delighted with their landing site. The fleet commander, Daminich, had ordered the shuttle pilots to stay away from the concentrated population centers.