by D. J. Holmes
Becket could hardly believe what she was hearing. An entirely new battlefleet headed towards the main front line. There was no way the Imperial or Alliance fleets could cope with a sudden surge of enemy ships. “How many?” she blurted out.
Moy-sol slowly turned towards her. “Ten thousand was the number our scouts detected. Though we know there were closer to sixteen thousand engaged in the war against this other species. It may be that more of those ships will be diverted to the war against your species as well.”
Becket closed her eyes. Ten thousand was more than enough to overrun the Imperial forces. The Karacknids could concentrate their reinforcements on one spot and drive into the heart of Human or Alliance space at ease. “How long ago was this?” she forced herself to ask. It could already be too late; Earth and the Empire could already have fallen. For all she knew, James, Lightfoot, Koroylov and the rest of her friends and family could already be dead.
“Five months ago,” Moy-sol answered. “Though the battlefleet was only beginning to move towards the front line of your war then. It would have taken them some time to get there.”
“There may still be hope,” Nalar said. “You do not need to despair yet Admiral Becket. In fact, that is why we have gathered all the ships we have upgraded here. The rest of our Conclave allies are doing the same, we’re expecting their ships to arrive over the next week.” Becket had already opened her eyes, she was staring at Nalar, not sure she was hearing him right. “We know that our fate is tied with yours. If this Karacknid battlefleet invades your colonies and conquers your homeworld, then the Karacknids will conquer us as soon as they desire to. Since Moy-sol arrived, we have been preparing all the ships we have to depart for Earth. We intend to add our strength to yours to help defend your homeworld. It is imperative that we get your ships into our repair yards as quickly as possible. We must re-supply and repair as many of your ships as we can so that they can make the journey with us.”
Becket had almost stopped listening to Nalar. Keeping her face almost pointed at him, out of the corner of her eye she pulled up the information Moy-sol had sent to Viper. It included a map of where the Karacknid battlefleet had been spotted. In her head she did some quick calculations. The Karacknid battlefleet was likely to have already reached the front line. They had possibly begun offensive operations already. But there was a chance. If it had been delayed enough; and if the Conclave species could get their fleet moving quick enough, then she could get to Earth in time. There is still hope, she said to herself. There was no way the Conclave species would be able to field more than five or six hundred warships. Less than half of her fleet would be able to make the journey to Earth, not without far more than a week or two in a repair yard. Against ten thousand Karacknid warships, six or seven hundred would mean very little. But it will be something, she thought. Hold on, she thought to James and the rest of her friends. It was not hard for her to imagine the desperate situation they were facing. Hold on, she thought to her friends. We are coming.
The End.
The story of the War of Doom and James and Christine will continue in Empire Rising book 12.
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