Battlegroup Vega

by Anders Raynor

  “I’ve got a sinking feeling that Raak’naar is up to something,” Adrian said. “I can’t believe the chancellor promoted him from admiral to number two of the Galactic State just to reward him for capturing Ophelia. There’s something else going on in the TGS, something we’re missing.”

  The ambassador rubbed his chin pensively. “I concur; I was aware of this promotion, and I also wondered why the chancellor has chosen Raak’naar. The reason could only be political. Raak’naar must be the leader of a powerful faction. I don’t see any other explanation.”

  “Ambassador, you must leave this world. Now. Evacuate the entire delegation before it’s too late. I know Raak’naar; he hates mankind, and he will do everything in his power to sabotage this summit.”

  Ansgaard eased himself into a seat with a sigh. He looked weary.

  “Some human philosophers believed that every problem had a solution,” he said. “That God or some higher power provides us with all the tools we need to succeed; we only have to figure out what those tools are and how to use them. Reason, logic, technology, or maybe compassion? Perhaps a combination of them all.”

  Adrian took a seat and remained silent, wondering where the ambassador was going with this line of reasoning.

  “For a diplomat, this isn’t an abstract question. I wrestle with these issues on a daily basis. Should I compromise or stand my ground, placate or threaten, negotiate or walk away? What if some situations have no solution, and no matter how hard I try, my efforts are doomed to fail?”

  After a short pause, he added, “What if there was no God and no plan? What if the universe was born out of chaos, and life exists in a state of precarious balance, a shaky bridge above the abyss? Laws, treaties, agreements, culture, civilization itself—what if all this is meaningless? Maybe all this is fleeting, inconsequential on the scale of the universe.”

  “War and peace are not inconsequential, ambassador,” Adrian argued. “Not to the people who have to live through them. Even if our petty conflicts have no impact on the fate of the universe, they are meaningful to us. Besides, even if all our endeavors are ultimately pointless, they give meaning to our lives. If we stop trying, we’re already half-dead.”

  Ansgaard nodded. “That’s why I keep trying, even though my guts tell me that the Taar’kuun are not ready for peace. There’s too much arrogance in them, too much hatred. I almost expect the chancellor to suddenly change his mind and refuse to sign the treaty. We know that the TGS has assembled an armada that dwarfs even the one they launched against us a year ago. What if these talks are just a diversion?”

  “ASF One is not stuck because of a magnetic storm,” Adrian realized. “The president isn’t coming to this summit.”

  “He’s not. DeCourt advised him to stay as far away from Tethys as possible. Although this world isn’t part of the TGS officially, this is still a Taar’kuun world, not neutral ground.”

  The ambassador made a pause, then looked Adrian in the eyes and asked, “What are you going to do, doctor? Are you going to accept Raak’naar’s offer? You know what might happen to Ophelia if you decline.”

  Adrian’s throat was burning. He averted his eyes to hide the pain. “You know how it feels to be a father, ambassador. But…”

  “There’s something important you’re not telling me. What happened on Olympica?”

  “DeCourt imprisoned us in a top-secret facility. We weren’t prisoners—not officially—but it felt the same. Ophelia grew up in a golden cage. Meanwhile, I was working on a bioweapon against the Taar’kuun. She never approved of my research. She begged me to destroy it, but I couldn’t. When the TGS attacked, we had to evacuate the research facility, and Raak’naar pursued us on his personal dreadnaught. During the battle, Ophelia chose to leave me and get herself captured. Now that I’ve destroyed my research, I hope she’ll forgive me. I will find her and free her, or die trying, but I’ll never surrender to Raak’naar.”

  “And I will do everything in my power to negotiate the safe return of your daughter,” Ansgaard promised. “I still hope there is a chance for peace. Let’s go and sign that treaty, doctor. Before the chancellor changes his mind.”

  * * *

  The human delegation entered a room where everything sparkled with valuable crystals and precious metals. A 4D painting by a famous artist blazed on one of the walls, playing complex temporal loops.

  The TGS delegation stood on the other side of the room across the table. Its members were clad in semi-transparent multilayered cloaks that shimmered under the light streaming from the high ceiling.

  Everything was set for the adoption of the peace treaty. The signatories had only to sit at the table and provide biometrics using a sophisticated ID verification device. The device would take a sample of their DNA and verify their biometric parameters such as fingerprints, iris patterns, and brainwave profile.

  “That’s it,” Ansgaard whispered to Adrian. “We’ve never been closer to peace.”

  “But where’s the chancellor?” Adrian asked.

  “He’ll probably arrive at the last moment, as he always does,” the ambassador replied.

  The doors on the Taar’kuun side opened, but it wasn’t the chancellor who stepped through. It was a squad of elite Biozi troopers, the chancellor’s personal guard.

  “The humans have assassinated the chancellor!” yelled the officer commanding them.

  Adrian froze as the barrels of Biozi plasma rifles took aim at his head.

  Raak’naar is the new chancellor. Peace is lost.

  05

  Duty and sacrifice

  Plasma rifles boomed, immediately followed by a chorus of screams. Adrian was tackled to the floor before he could react. Fixed in an expression of horror, a pair of eyes stared at him; it belonged to one of the diplomats hit in the chest by a plasma bolt. The stench of burned flesh made Adrian queasy.

  Two strong arms pulled him toward the exit. A plasma bolt exploded a few centimeters above his head.

  “Activate forcefield,” yelled the captain of the chancellor’s guard.

  Adrian’s saviors managed to get him through the door just before an invisible wall cut the room off from the corridor.

  “Where’s my father?” Jason shouted. “Still inside?”

  “We can’t go back,” Riley said. “Our mission is to get Dr. Darus to safety.”

  “I can’t abandon my father!” Jason yelled, clasping his blaster.

  Adrian saw the ambassador through the forcefield, kneeling, hands tied behind his back. A life-size hologram of Raak’naar appeared next to him.

  “Your orders, chancellor?” the Biozi captain asked his master.

  Raak’naar threw a contemptuous look at Ansgaard and snapped, “Execute this traitor.”

  Jason hurled himself toward the forcefield in a desperate move, but Riley and one of the marines grabbed him.

  The ambassador turned his head and exchanged one last look with his son. Adrian remembered Ansgaard’s words: “What if the universe was born out of chaos, and life exists in a state of precarious balance, a shaky bridge above the abyss?”

  The captain raised his gun and squeezed the trigger. The ambassador tumbled to the floor.

  Jason cried and struggled like a madman to free himself, but the marines held him tight.

  “Capture Darus,” Raak’naar ordered his troopers. “Wipe out the others.”

  The forcefield disappeared and the Biozi troopers charged through the door. Riley reacted with lightning speed. Her blaster carbine boomed at full power, and the bolt hit the nearest trooper in the throat. A killer shot.

  The ASF marines deployed blaster-resistant shields and formed a wall to protect Adrian.

  “Suppressive fire,” Riley ordered. “Blasters on overload.”

  The marines unleashed a barrage of blaster bolts, forcing the Biozi troopers to take cover.

  “Watch out, they’ve got a spore launcher,” the sergeant of the marines shouted.

  A weaponized spore the si
ze of a fist punched through a shield and hit a marine in the shoulder. He screamed as the corrosive substance secreted by the spore devoured his body armor and his flesh.

  “Retreat to the landing platform,” Riley called. “Go, go, go!”

  The surviving marines moved backward in military order, spraying the hostiles with streams of blaster bolts. Biozi troopers also deployed shields and formed a wall of their own. They poured into the corridor, wave after wave.

  ASF reinforcements arrived from the landing platform, a full squad of marines, including a heavy weapons specialist. He hauled a missile launcher on his shoulder and fired four anti-personnel rockets at the Biozi. The blasts propelled the troopers backward and disrupted their ranks.

  Jason lifted a heavy rapid-fire blaster dropped by a dead marine, clasped it with both hands, and squeezed the trigger with a cry of rage. The stream of bolts ripped through armor and flesh, tore limbs, and blew up Biozi sculls.

  “That idiot will get himself killed,” Riley muttered. To the marines, she shouted, “Shield Lieutenant Blaze!”

  Two of them protected Jason with their shields while Riley dragged him toward the landing platform. “Pull yourself together, officer,” she yelled at him. “Don’t make me stun you.”

  Jason threw his heavy rifle to the floor and followed Riley. An ASF dropship, Spearhead model, was waiting on the platform. Light and aerodynamic, it was designed to transport up to ten personnel and fitted with thrusters as well as turbofan rotors to allow vertical takeoff.

  Adrian ran to the craft, protected by two marines.

  A battle for air control raged in the night sky. An ASF gunship barreled downward, a trail of smoke in its wake. Two Arachnid-class interceptors pursued it. A Rapier interceptor swooped down on them. The trails of Alpha-class missiles flashed for an instant before the Arachnids disintegrated in a cloud of fire and debris.

  Dozens of similar dogfights were playing out above the planetary capital. Bright lines crisscrossed the sky. Explosions lit the night like a pyrotechnic show gone out of control.

  Adrian jumped through the open doors of the dropship. Jason followed him and rushed to the cockpit. When Riley and all surviving marines were on board, four turbofan rotors lifted the craft off the ground, but instead of flying away, Jason turned it toward the palace and opened fire with its forward blasters.

  Riley dashed to the cockpit and pointed her blaster carbine at him. “Lieutenant-Commander Blaze, I’m relieving you of duty.”

  Jason ceased fire and turned to Riley, anger distorting his handsome face. “You won’t dare zap me.”

  “You’re in shock,” Riley said. “You’re not fit to command. Step down and let me take over.”

  “It’s not your father who’s lying on the floor in this goddamn palace,” he yelled at her. “They shot him like a rabid dog! I’m not going anywhere until I burn that filthy cockroach who murdered my father.”

  “I can’t let you compromise our mission because of a personal vendetta,” she said with calm determination. “Give me your gun, or I’ll have to stun you.”

  “Dammit!” Jason slammed his fist against the armrest of his seat. He turned his burning gaze onto Riley.

  His face started to relax, and he drew a deep breath. With obvious reluctance, he pulled his sidearm and handed it over to Riley. “The Spearhead is yours.”

  Riley snatched Jason’s blaster, tossed it to one of the marines, and lowered her carbine. “Blaze, you’ll pilot the Spearhead. You’re still the best pilot I ever worked with. But you’re not touching the guns. I’ll take the gunner’s station.”

  Jason turned the dropship around and fired thrusters. The craft soared.

  Adrian watched the battle unfolding in low orbit. The Biozi fleet pressed its attack against the ASF ships. Four Artemis-class destroyers formed the vanguard, defending the human fleet against enemy missiles and starfighters. Heavy blasters of two Ares-class cruisers blazed in the night, propelling miniature suns toward the Biozi bioships. Behind the destroyers and the cruisers, a 900-meter-long Poseidon-class carrier was launching starfighters.

  “Set course on the Remembrance,” Riley ordered Jason.

  Captain Hunt’s bioship kept its distance from the main ASF fleet and didn’t engage the Biozi. Its rear hangar doors opened and the dropship transporting Adrian and what remained of his security detail flew through. As the hangar doors were closing, Adrian saw blades of plasma shooting from the destroyer’s main thrusters located in its wing-like structures.

  When the dropship touched down, Jason shut down the engine. The lights in the cockpit died out, but he remained in his seat.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss,” Adrian said in low voice.

  Jason was still in the semi-darkness, staring at the lifeless control panel, his hands set on the armrests. “We could’ve saved my father,” he whispered.

  “Protecting Dr. Darus was priority,” Riley reminded him. “We did what was expected from us. I’m sorry about the ambassador—I know how close you were—but we couldn’t save him.”

  “You chose to save me over your father?” Adrian asked.

  Riley turned to Adrian. “He chose to become an officer, and his orders were to protect you. But he lost self-control, compromised our mission, and almost got himself killed. That’s not behavior fit for an ASF officer.”

  Jason rocked his head. “I pity you,” he said to Riley without even a glance in her direction. “You cannot understand. You turned into a human being, like all of us, but never grasped what it meant to be human. We’re not machines you can program, or Biozi warriors you can condition to blindly obey orders.”

  “Riley, I think Jason is right,” Adrian said. “Don’t judge him too harshly. When I was about to lose my daughter, I had the same irrational reaction. The human condition is still a mystery to us, and we’re all trying to figure out how to control our emotions. Including you. In your opinion, Jason is unfit to be an officer, yet you risked your life and the success of your mission to save him. Why didn’t you let him sacrifice himself?”

  Her blue eyes flashed with anger. “Don’t compare us. I knew what I was doing. I remained in control of my emotions and my actions—he didn’t.” She turned to Jason and added, “I’m sorry, Blaze, but I think you should resign from the ASF. You’re a talented pilot and navigator, and I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding a good job on a civilian ship. But I don’t want to serve with you, and that’s what I’m going to tell the captain.”

  With those words, she turned around and left the dropship.

  “If there’s anything I can do for you, anything—” Adrian started.

  Jason raised his hand to stop him. “Please leave me alone. Just…leave me be.”

  Adrian sighed and exited the dropship.

  How many people died to protect me? When’s this nightmare going to end?

  “The real question you want to ask yourself is—was it worth it?” Ria said. “Hundreds, maybe thousands of people gave their lives to protect you from the Taar’kuun. To what end? What have you accomplished? Have you stopped the war, or have you made any significant contribution to the war effort?”

  “You know I never wanted for any of this to happen, Ria. But you’re right. I created this new mankind; whether I like it or not, they’re all my children. And I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure they have a future.”

  06

  Total war

  Raak’naar—the new chancellor of the Taar’kuun Galactic State—was addressing his subjects. The personnel of the Remembrance watched his address, and so did Adrian. They were assembled in the cargo bay, the only empty space vast enough to accommodate 150 people.

  Raak’naar’s holo-image towered above them. Clad in a dark-purple cloak—the color of mourning in Taar’kuun culture—he was holding the Scepter of Power, symbol of supreme authority.

  Unsurprisingly, he excoriated the Alliance and its leaders, but then he went further, claiming that the very existence of mankind was an insult to
Taar’kuun religious beliefs. As Adrian had expected, Raak’naar was calling for a war of annihilation.

  “The death of our beloved chancellor will be avenged. The human worlds will be purged. Any trace of their blasphemous culture will be destroyed. The temples of their false gods will be burned to the ground. Any human who refuses to rejoin our glorious civilization will be exterminated.”

  Re-assimilation or death—that was the choice the chancellor was giving to all human beings. The Taar’kuun audience greeted this speech with a roar of approval. Patriotic and religious sentiments had never burned brighter.

  “I, Raak’naar Kaal’ghur’ahaal, the new chancellor of the Galactic State, make you a solemn promise—the human menace will be eradicated. I hereby declare the Khaada’soolkaad against the human abomination!”

  The Taar’kuun audience roared again, while the crew of the Remembrance had the opposite reaction. When the transmission ended, no one dared to break the silence. They all understood what the notion of Khaada’soolkaad—holy war—meant for the Taar’kuun. Only the warrior caste could take part in a conventional military conflict, but in the context of a religious war, every caste was expected to contribute. Raak’naar had opened the floodgates, and billions of Taar’kuun would take arms against the Alliance.

  Adrian could only ponder the enormity of what was before them.

  How can we contend with the Taar’kuun? The TGS controls three million inhabited systems, while the human sector counts about a thousand, with only nine major worlds. The TGS has fifteen trillion citizens, versus twelve billion for the Alliance. How are we going to survive a total war with a species that outnumbers us more than a thousand to one?

  * * *

  Adrian went to Captain Hunt’s quarters. The captain was working, his eyes glued to the holo-screen above his desk, his fingers typing on a virtual keyboard.