by T. R. Harris
There was a kill list posted on the forward bulkhead of the Robertson’s command ship. He started with seventy-one warships committed to the battle. Twenty-one were already destroyed. Another screen showed the enemy strength. He sighed deeply. This alien—they called him Kracion—had lost three of his ships. That was hardly a satisfying exchange, yet it was better than the first encounter with this new Klin fleet. Robertson had been shocked to hear the word Klin again in the first briefing for the mission. He thought the Klin had been wiped out. But here they were again and being led by something called an Aris. When would anything ever make sense again, he’d thought at the time? Aliens, dimensional travel and teleporting bombs. When had reality changed from the commonplace to the realm of science fiction?
“Sir, the strategy seems to be working,” said his XO, a commander named Ellis Williams. “The Klin are breaking ranks, and although we’ve had a few additional ships knocked offline by explosions in the engine rooms—and even a couple to the bridge—the bulk of our force is intact. Torpedoes are chasing a number of the enemy ships, which may be getting ready to bolt away to avoid the weapons.”
The crews of the task force were dressed in full spacesuits with the atmosphere evacuated from all compartments. Although engines and generators may be down on some, the bulk of the crews were alive, and the ships farther away from the Klin were fully operational and launching their torpedoes.
And then a bright light flared through the forward screen.
“What was that?” Captain Robertson asked. He didn’t like surprises in the heat of battle.
“An energy blast of some kind,” a crewman answered. “But not a bolt, as far as I can tell.”
Robertson moved to the station, slowly in the bulky suit. They were designed for operation in space, with zero gravity, not aboard spaceships with the internals still active.
“Several more, coming in from the Klin ships.”
“Someone give me an assessment. Why are these different?”
After a moment, a voice answered in his helmet comm. “Concentrated energy beam, captain. It’s not a bolt, but a steady stream.”
“Sir, three more ships offline. Nine torpedoes as well.”
“What are we looking at?” Robertson asked.
“The beams are too intense for the diffusion shields. They’re only about a foot in diameter, and each as strong as a cannon bolt. The screens aren’t designed for that. The beams are cutting through the shields and striking the ships.”
“Damage estimates?”
“The beams can penetrate all the way through. Reports of hulls being sliced in two. Sir…we have no counter.”
Robertson glanced at the kill board. Forty-one of his ships were either destroyed or dead-in-the-water, with the Klin now targeting the sitting ducks.
“Mr. Williams, see if we can get grapples on the disabled ships and pull them from the area without getting any more ships destroyed. Sound a general retreat. Escape Plan Alpha. Everyone back to the Andannar system. Break off, I repeat, break off!”
Monty Pitts had brought the Sally to a stop just outside the field of battle so the crew could watch the results. What they saw stunned them.
“Kracion has lost nine of his ships,” Coop reported solemnly. “His flagship is still operational. Our guys have lost over half their strength and are in full retreat.”
“What about those new beam weapons? What can you tell me about those?” Adam asked.
Tidus had taken a station and was studying the energy signals. Although the Mustang Sally wasn’t a warship, she could still analyze energy readouts which were used for navigation and threat avoidance.
“Intense concentrations of plasma. They are like compressing a flash cannon bolt to a hundredth of its size, yet still retaining all the energy. Your shields could not absorb such intensity in the affected areas. The shields were useless.” He continued to study the screen. “Yet it seems your theory of the teleporting bombs was correct, although Kracion changed his strategy almost immediately and began to target drive systems rather than random compartments.”
“Where is he now?” Adam asked Riyad at the nav station.
“His ships are still in the area, sifting through the wreckage, taking out survivors.”
“Dammit! We should have continued on to the station. We could have put more distance between him and us. Monty, get us going again. He won’t stick around here for long. Let’s get to the station before he does.”
124
The bad news was piling up, reaching a point where the Juireans could no longer ignore the threat. Links were made with Earth, Formil, Juir and a dozen other important worlds within the Expansion and the Union and a slow mobilization was begun.
It was slow because at the moment, the threat was still far away in the Kidis Frontier and getting farther away by the minute. It was explained where Kracion was going, yet the significance of him possibly becoming immortal hadn’t sunk in yet. All the species involved knew of Lila and Panur, so they were aware of immortal beings. The fact that Kracion could become immortal himself was taking a backseat to the reality of his new weapons systems. The threat from teleporting bombs and ray guns they could grasp. Immortality they couldn’t.
By the time Arieel and Sherri entered the Formilian system, news of the Human defeats and the existence of the alien Kracion was blanketing the broadcasts. Yet rather than drive straight for the planet, the Davion took a detour to the Klin Colony Ship. Arieel had left her royal yacht there when the Olypon/lost universe affair had begun. She now wanted to retrieve it and appear in the sky above the Temple in the official vessel of the Speaker of the Formilian People.
The starship was almost completely automated and able to be controlled mentally by the powers of the Speaker. It wasn’t magic, just a proliferation of controls designed to be accessed by Arieel’s Gift. She didn’t have to know how to pilot the vessel, just know how to think about piloting it.
She commanded the ship to land at the spaceport outside the Temple grounds. A fleet of government vehicles awaited the pair of females as they exited, ready to take them to the Grand Hall of the Temple of Light. Arieel had insisted on making a presentation there, rather than in the towering government building to the north of the Temple grounds. This was a much more impressive setting and one steeped in the two-thousand-year traditions of the Speakership and Temple Order.
High Celebrant Sadin O’nic greeted the pair at a side entrance. Arieel had to prepare for the entrance in the Grand Hall, where her ceremonial throne was located.
“I apologize for all the palace intrigue, Speaker Bol,” Sadin said. He was extremely old for a Formilian, yet still vibrant and deeply tanned and well-muscled. Sherri was always stunned by the strength and vitality of both sexes of Formilians, overcome at times by the pheromones they exuded. This time she grimaced at her feelings, knowing it had been the ancient Aris who designed the Formilians to do just that. Arieel’s were the catalyst race, the one which most other species would find irresistible on a sexual level. Although not all were physically compatible with the Formilians, there would be a drive to mate with the aliens on a primal level, and at some point, a fire would be lit as a result between an interspecies mating and a child would be born—the Apex Being.
Sherri’s expression turned sour. That mating had occurred between Sherri’s one true love—Adam Cain—and the incredibly sexy Arieel Bol, resulting in the birth of Lila. The feisty blonde from Owensboro, Kentucky, had found herself left out of the cosmic equation, leaving her feeling insignificant within the whole scheme of things.
But Sherri had to admit Arieel Bol could be impressive at times. Now she was dressed in an unbelievably sexy and form-fitting white gown, with a separate shoulder shroud resting around her neck, leaving amble cleavage for all to see. Sherri knew the outfit wasn’t designed to be as revealing or provocative as it was, not to the Formilians. But to outsiders it would have an effect.
Two Formilians in civilian wear approached her as Ari
eel waited in a side corridor. The Hall was filling up with dignitaries from across the planet, having been notified in advance of Arieel’s presentation. The Council had tried to deny her the right to address the planet, but that had been quickly shouted down by, well, everyone. Arieel Bol was the latest in a two-thousand-year long bloodline of matriarchs who had ruled the planet in their capacity as Speakers, the rare breed of native with direct contact between their twin gods of Mislin and Sufor, the polar opposites for positive and negative electromagnetism. The mystical nature of the Speakers had been dispelled recently when the secret of their powers had been shown to be the result of an artificial device implanted under their skin. This was the so-called Gift from the Gods—what Adam Cain called the Artificial Telepathy Device. And because of that scandal, forces within the Council sought to dethrone Arieel and break the bloodline for good.
Arieel was here to stop them.
“My Speaker,” said one of the younger Formilians, a Councilmember named Loknin. “This is highly unusual. All official matters should be conducted within the Council chambers, not here, in the Temple.”
“It is the power of the Order you wish to supplant, Loknin,” Arieel said in a powerful, official voice. Sherri was standing a step or two behind her and was impressed by the strength and tone. “I will make my case before the people of Formil and in the appropriate setting. If you are uncomfortable with being here, then you are welcome to leave.”
The other civilian stepped up to Arieel. “My Speaker, this is not necessary. We seek an accommodation. In light of the news coming from Juir and elsewhere, this is not the appropriate time to engage in a battle for authority.”
Arieel glared at the older Formilian. “Councilmember Nannon, I did not start this battle…you did. I tried to warn you of the danger and you discarded me, focusing instead on your own petty ambitions. You have had amble time to present your argument to the people. Now it is my turn.”
Arieel abruptly turned away and entered the Hall. The Council members scurried away, not following her. Sherri stepped up to the doorway so she could watch the event unfold.
There was no clapping or cheering as Arieel made her way to the throne platform, nor was there a podium from which she would make her speech. Instead, a reverent hush fell over the room as Arieel stood in front of the throne preparing to speak to the attentive throng. There were broadcast stations set up to the rear of the chamber which would send Arieel’s picture and words around the planet and throughout the system, including the eight manufacturing worlds which Formil controlled. Her people were the foremost builders of electronic components in the galaxy. They even ran the galactic internet system called the Library. Arieel was their spiritual leader and had once wielded absolute power within Formilian society. Until the politicians got greedy.
“Formilians—all Formilians—we are facing a terrible crossroads in our history, a time of confusion and danger which I will detail. Yet first, I must address a question you may all have regarding me and the standing of the Speakers.”
Arieel held out her hands. Immediately, two fiery balls of blue and white crackling energy appeared in her palms. They sparkled, casting brilliant flashes of light on her bronze skin and reflected in her eyes.
“Does it matter how I am able to do this…or is it more important to think of where this wonder comes from? I did not create this, nor this.” The lights in the Hall dimmed before rising again. “All we see is a product of Mislin and Sufor, the deities we have revered since the beginning of our civilization. All these wonders are but manifestations of the energy all around us. How it is gathered, how it is displayed is but detail. Yes, I, as all the Speakers, have been provided with a Gift, a means for channeling this power into physical form. But it does not mean the power does not exist. It does. It is all around us. It is in the air, in the land…inside each of us. I am but a symbol of this power, of this wonder of nature. The Formilian people have always honored and respected this power, no matter the form it takes or who represents it in physical form. And that is all I am, simply the current representative of this power. I—nor any of the Speakers—claimed to be gods ourselves, for we are not. We are a focal point, something to which the Formilians can point to as proof of the connection between the real and surreal. And this is as it should be. The Speakers have not ruled simply to rule, but to provide a light—the Light—bringing order to that which is unseen. You may reject this light, turn your back on it, refuse to accept it as being real. Rather you may call it artificial, a trick of technology to enamor the masses. That is not what has happened. All the Speakers have been is a conduit for truth…and for belief. There has been no deception. Just as we use transports to move across the land, or starships to journey through space, my Gift is but a tool, a means of reaching a deeper truth. I am here to proclaim my devotion to you, my loyalty, my love. I was born into this, as have all the Speakers before me. It is our destiny. Do not reject this destiny, for it is not mine alone, but yours as well.”
She paused as the flames in her hands slowly faded away. Then she glanced to her side, making eye contact with Sherri. Then she turned to the crowd once more.
“And now I will speak of the current crisis, of the shallow interests who wish to change Formil forever, who wish to strip us of our legacy, our heritage, our history. And why do they attempt to usurp the authority of the Order and replace the Speakership with a system that mirrors so many others around us? It is all about power, about control. The Speakers have never sought control, yet we have wielded power, natural power, power from nature. These Formilians now seek power for themselves, created by them out of the control of the masses. Yet I stand in their way. Let me say this now: I will always stand in their way.”
Now the chamber erupted in raucous applause and cheers. Arieel’s proud figure took in the adoration for several moments before she mentally dimmed the lights, all except a spotlight on her.
“I thank you for your reaction to my proclamation. It is gratifying that I still find support among my people. Yet let me explain more. As you are aware, the galaxy now faces a new threat, an ancient threat manifested in an evil entity which I have witnessed firsthand. From the broadcasts you have only glimpsed a fraction of the terror that awaits us in this great struggle. Several days ago, I tried to warn the Council of this danger. Do you know what they did? Nothing! Worse than nothing. They dismissed me in favor of their own greed and ambitions. They informed me that I was in the process of being deposed, of being stripped of my authority, along with that of the Order.
“How could this be, you may ask? I asked the same. This is not a time for petty powerplays. This is a time for unity, for strength in the face of a common enemy. Granted, at the time the threat was little known, except for my word. Yet why would I lie about such a thing? But that was not the true issue. It was how cavalierly my words were tossed away. These Formilians were blinded by their own selfish desires. I was not warning only Formil, but the entire Expansion. Yet my warning was not taken seriously, by a group of unserious individuals.
“And now these same Formilians have placed questions before you regarding what direction our people and our planet will take. I scoff at this. If we do nothing, then this threat is great enough to consume us all. There will be no Formil to fight over. There will be no Formilians which to rule and control.
“Yet nothing can happen without your approval. No Formilian can rule without the consent of the governed. No evil can be done without willing accomplices who allow it to happen. You know me, you know my bloodline. It is your bloodline as well. You know all I say and do is for you, not for me. Can the same be said for those who seek to replace me?
“But this is not the time for this. I call for all petitions to be set aside—temporarily if wanted. But now we must unite to face this new evil. We must help lead the Expansion—indeed the entire galaxy—against the creature known as Kracion. You may not have heard the name before, but you have now. And unless we do something about him, his name will b
e forever associated with the death, destruction and subjugation of our homes, our families, our history. Members of the Council, call off your naked effort to gain control of the people. Set aside your greedy ambitions until we know if there will be a Formil left at the end of this struggle. Do this not for me, but for the people you profess to care for…as I do. As I always will.”
The cheering went on for several minutes, even long after Arieel had left the chamber. Sherri had tears in her eyes and was impressed beyond words. She’d never seen this side of Arieel before, the leader, the Speaker of the Formilian People.
Arieel walked up to her with a wicked grin on her face.
“Well, how did I do?”
Sherri simply stared at her before saying: “Who…are…you?”
“I was just doing my job. Just as you are good at killing things, I am good at expressing my emotions. I am not called a Speaker for nothing.”
“No shit! That was great.”
A messenger walked quickly up to Arieel and handed her a thin dataslip.
“That did not take long,” Arieel said after scanning the message. “The Council has unanimously agreed to postpone any vote or further discussion of regime change until after the current crisis is resolved.”
“You did it! Congratulations.”
Arieel leaned in close to Sherri, a stern, serious look on her face.
“Now that that is over, it is time to get to work. Come with me. We have a fleet to assemble…and a Colony Ship to stock. Adam and the others will need our assistance. We must not disappoint.”