by Lee Watts
***
"Access denied," Aulani read for the eighteenth time, though by now Hacker could read that much Ramillie for himself.
"It's no good," he grumbled in frustration. "I can't get in. They've set up a rotating sub-encryption…"
Marcus was able to decipher just enough of the techno-babble tirade to know Hacker was ready to quit.
"Failure is not an option! Everything's riding on you gettin' that satellite net down. Try something else."
"I've tried everything I know," he grumbled to Aulani. "There's no way to get into the command files."
"What about the other files?" Aulani offered. "Maybe we can go about it another way. Here," she suggested while pointing to the screen. "What about this one? It says, "Targeting protocols."
"Hey, that might be it," Hacker speculated with renewed optimism. "If we can't shut down the satellites, maybe we can reprogram their targeting priorities."
His fingers danced quickly over the controls, Aulani letting him know what effect his inputs were having. "The directory identifying enemies isn't as protected as the others. That way the Ramillie can add new targets into the system quickly. All I have to do is add in a new target."
Without explaining further, he began typing in commands rapidly. The status board on the screen turned green as he hurriedly input a new target for the satellites. Uploading the new enemy identification directory, the satellites came to life. On the bridge of the Dauntless, a startled crewman reported that all the satellites were charging their weapons. Before there was time to react, the thousands of satellites began firing. In a flurry of rapid exchanges, each of the satellites lashed out at the others… within twenty seconds the entire net was disabled. The few still functioning satellites could easily be dispatched.
A cheer rang throughout the space station's control room as the net blasted away at itself. Interrupting the celebration was a rumble from the deck plates and warning lights flashing on every console. Aulani quickly read the bold red letters.
"Core breach in progress! The whole station's going to blow!"
"EVERYBODY MOVE," Marcus ordered. "BACK TO THE SHUTTLES!"
Activating the transmitter in his helmet, Marcus warned the rest of the troops on the station of the impending detonation, giving the order to evacuate.
From the Dauntless, Balin, Alexander, and those of the bridge crew watched with elation as the deadly security satellites destroyed each other.
"They did it," Alexander exclaimed.
"Ahead full to Theera; begin phase three," Balin joyfully ordered. "Navigation, put us in synchronous orbit over Paran. Landing teams, prepare to launch."
Alexander smiled while noticing a myriad of small Ramillie craft speeding away from the surface of the Realm's homeworlds and jumping out of the system.
"They're leaving," he announced with satisfaction. "Guess that means they're not going to stay and fight."
"Those are private ships," Balin pointed out. "The elite are getting out. It remains to be seen if they-"
"Admiral," came an urgent voice from a bridge officer, "detecting a massive hyperspace portal opening behind us. Ramillie warships exiting."
"Guess that answers that," Merrick groaned.
Balin nodded.
"Yes, and they've responded quicker than I thought." Turning to the sensor operator, Balin asked for a report.
"Scanning… I'm reading…one," the sensor operator answered in surprise.
"One?" Balin questioned. "What classification?"
"Unknown configuration, Sir, but it's big. Approximately twenty times our size with power output to match. It's on an intercept course."
"Even with something that big, it's still not enough to drive us out of the system is it?" Alexander asked.
"Nothing's certain, Sire, but I doubt it," Balin supposed. "My guess is it's trying to draw us away from the planets so other ships could jump in and cut us off from the landing forces." Balin grumbled as he considered how this new ship affected his battle plans. "Too many unknowns," he grumbled. Calling out to the sensor operator, he asked for the speed of the approaching vessel.
"They're at twenty percent sub-light velocity and holding steady."
Balin and Merrick exchanged suspicious glances. Inexperienced in space combat, Alexander didn't understand the significance of the information.
"They're not in a big hurry to get here," Merrick explained. "Admiral, I think you're right. They're trying to draw us off."
"Comm, send a signal to the Champion. Inform Admiral Hamil of our readings, and tell him to deploy as many reserve forces as he requires to counter that ship."
"Aye, Sir."
"Sire, we'll take care of things up here," Balin pledged. "You'd better get to the docking bay, or they might leave without you."
"On my way. I'll signal you when Theera is ours again."
With that, Alexander and Merrick rushed off the bridge toward the docking bay. Reaching their appointed shuttle, Alexander noticed an unexpected passenger.
"Caedmon? You shouldn't-" Alexander began in protest, but one look from the old man known as the Faithful Voice expressed there was no amount of words or force that could keep Caedmon from the liberation of Theera. The ship lifted off and launched. Banking sharply, it joined the hundreds of other shuttles and fighter craft heading for the twin worlds.
***
Ramillie Warlord Ra'daq glowered at the rebel ships on the main screen of his mammoth vessel, Tyrannus. Closing his eyes, Ra'daq began inwardly communing with the unseen. Patience was the Ramillie way, but finally, his time for glory was at hand. It was glory he felt was long overdue and had been unjustly denied him when his rival, Admiral Valqson, was recently assigned the Hegemony's command ship. For twelve years Ra'daq had waged campaigns subjugating barbaric races in the unknown regions.
At last recalled to home territory, opportunity awaited him. His propensity for heavy-handed tactics was viewed as too overt during the formative years of establishing the Hegemony, so he was distanced from the civilized galaxy. Now entrenched, the Hegemony had extended and secured its influence and power to such a degree that no one of consequence would raise a voice at a blatant display of force. On the contrary, such a demonstration of power was precisely what was needed.
News of The Remnant rebellion was spreading, including stories that they even drove the Ramillie off of several worlds. True or not, the rumors had to be crushed, and so too must The Remnant. Qil'Donan, who was Ra'daq's longtime rival, failed to eradicate this "vermin," and more than one Ramillie commander was similarly outmatched in each engagement with them. To serve as an example to the rest of the galaxy, Ra'daq was instructed to make the Remnant's annihilation particularly brutal. He reveled in his orders and delighted in this first opportunity to fulfill his mandate.
With crisp military bearing, Captain Crex, newly assigned second in command, ascended the steps of the command platform at the back of the wide, oval bridge. From there, Ra'daq oversaw operations from a sealed cubicle with one-way reflective glass. Assuming his post as the first officer only a week prior, Crex was still uncomfortable with his new commander. Rumors abounded as to the fate of Ra'daq's previous first officers. Crex checked the records and found they were simply listed as… missing. At first, Crex thought serving with a warlord would be a distinct privilege, but in only a short while he learned to fear Ra'daq more than respect him; Ra'daq preferred it that way. The Tyrannus' commander was an enigma. With Ra'daq having such a hard-charging reputation, Crex expected him to be a gruff, boisterous man, but it couldn't have been further from the truth. Quiet and with reptilian-like coldness, Ra'daq could look at a person giving them the distinct sensation of an animal being sized up for dinner. Crex researched Ra'daq's record and learned that for years he was banished to the far reaches, not for some misstep or incompetence, but quite the opposite. He was too efficient, and so was seen as a competitor to other, less gifted senior officers who considered him a threat to their positions and potential advancem
ents.
Pressed to deliver the information, but advised not to disturb the warlord during a time of meditation, Crex entered the command cubicle waiting silently at attention. After several moments, with lids still closed, Ra'daq spoke.
"What is it, Captain?" he asked coolly.
Crex found it eerie the way Ra'daq could identify people without looking.
"Situation report, Warlord. The rebel vessels are not breaking off to engage us."
Ra'daq smiled. In a way, he was glad the enemy commander had not fallen for the tactic.
"Good."
Crex was puzzled.
"Good, Sir? I don't understand. What does it mean?"
"What it means, Captain, is perhaps the enemy commander is cunning enough to prove a worthy opponent after all. I do hope so; it makes the game far more enjoyable." Slowly, Ra'daq opened his eyes. "Yes, it seems either their commander's not foolish enough to create a gap between his forces and the planets, or he's afraid of the beast," he added using the colloquialism for his behemoth ship.
"Orders?" Crex asked.
"Full stop," Ra'daq directed, again closing his eyes.
"Full stop, Sir?" the confused first officer queried. "As you command; but, what about the waiting taskforce? Unless we draw the rebels off, there won't be enough room for a portal to-"
"Calm yourself, Captain. We will accomplish our task, but mustn't let the enemy set the battle conditions. So far, their campaign has been in a straight line starting from their outer colonies. By bypassing their middle worlds and jumping straight to their home system, they've taken the initiative; we mustn't let that continue. Are you familiar with the fiasco in the Oosay system?"
"Yes, Sir. Coming from Tactical Plans Headquarters I can tell you a great deal of analysis has been done on that engagement."
Unimpressed with the mention of what Headquarters thought, Ra'daq huffed.
"And with this… analysis, can you tell me why Admiral Qil'Donan's entire battle group was destroyed by a force that was without a single warship?"
"It was a combination of factors: the enemy leveraged the tizanite asteroids to their advantage, and the unexpected use of spaceborne infantry was never properly countered."
The commander's silence let Crex know his answer was insufficient. Ra'daq opened his eyes regarding his nervous first officer with stony coldness. Awkward tension mounting, Crex continued.
"In addition, after initial heavy losses, the admiral did not contact command and request support."
"Instead he charged in without taking time to think," Ra'daq offered.
"Precisely, Sir," Crex confirmed.
As the words left his mouth, Crex realized that this was the point Ra'daq was making.
"Do you know why headquarters assigned me to The Remnant problem?"
"No, Sir."
"Because if I fail, it gets rid of me, but if I succeed it ends this revolution. Either way, they get something they want. However, I will succeed where others have failed. I will destroy what others were destroyed by and use this to gain favor with Potentate Kahira. It will secure my position over my rivals then I will be supreme commander, but first I must deal with these arrogant rebels. Captain, you recently left Headquarters, so tell me how they explain these rebels continually pushing back our forces?"
Knowing the warlord already had his own explanation, Crex was reluctant, but compelled, to answer.
"The unexpected return of the Remnant fleet gave them the element of surprise, and they have achieved some quick victories because of it."
"Six months of steady expansion can hardly be blamed on surprise. At Oosay we surprised them, yet they won. Has Headquarters considered they may be getting help?"
"Intelligence reports that a handful of other races managed to retrieve their forces from hyper-freeze at the same time, but their territories are so distant they haven't been able to create a unified front."
"So, they are acting alone?"
"Yes, Sir."
"And the Hegemony is engaging them on all fronts?"
"Correct."
"Wrong."
Uncomfortable at being corrected, Crex stood in puzzled silence half feeling he should defend his position but fearing the warlord's response if he did.
Cautiously he asked, "Do you have new information, Sir? If they have a secret ally, it could explain how they keep advancing. The Chinix perhaps… or maybe the Hateeg? With their cloaking technology, it would be difficult to detect supply convoys."
"No, neither of them, but a secret ally, yes. Captain, The Remnant is headed by religious zealots who think their unseen Elder will help them, and you know what… they're right."
Crex said nothing, but his sneer and furrowed brow betrayed his thoughts.
"You don't believe in the Elder do you, Captain?"
"No, Sir."
"Nor our gods I detect."
"With respect, I do not. I've never been a man of faith."
"An atheist then?"
"More of an agnostic. I prefer to deal in what can be proved than to go with blind faith."
Ra'daq gave a slow, hungry smile, sending a chill over Crex's body.
"Captain, before this war is over you will be a believer. There's more going on here than can be seen. The Elderites have one God, but we have many. Gods are a resource we in the military often neglect, but I intend to enlist their assistance. It's the classic strategy of superior numbers - many gods versus one. We will be the victors."
"And how do you intend to… enlist the gods' assistance? Prayer?"
"Prayer and sacrifice, Crex; prayer… and sacrifice."
CHAPTER 9
"Also I heard the voice of the LORD, saying, Whom shall I send, and who will go for us? Then said I, Here am I; send me." – Isaiah 6:8
Alexander's shuttle bucked as blasts from the surface detonated beside it.
"THIS IS LYONS DEN, I NEED SOME COVER HERE," Sergeant Tia VanAllen shouted over the radio while piloting the craft through a hail of artillery fire.
"Lyons Den this is Raven Two, moving to intercept," came the calm, professional voice of a seasoned starfighter pilot.
The shuttle shuddered as the starfighter zoomed close overhead.
"INCOMING," Tia shouted on detecting three missiles headed their way.
"I'm on it," came the same pilot's voice. Ian Hammond hit the switch deploying defensive countermeasures, which led off two of the missiles. The remaining rocket raced toward the King's shuttle. Activating his starfighter's cannons, Ian sent a stream of blue lasers at the projectile. A small, fast-moving target, it proved difficult to hit. Moving in front of the King's ship, Ian continued firing. Careful to stay out of Tia's way, Alexander watched as the starfighter positioned itself to absorb the missile. In a whispered plea, Alexander quickly prayed.
O Elder, be with this man.
It was all the time he had to speak before the belching explosion in front of them blinded his view of the fighter. With no time to maneuver, Sergeant VanAllen roared as she flew the ship through the black cloud of smoke. Quickly emerging through the veil of fire and debris, they were surprised to see the protecting starfighter intact. No one was as surprised as its pilot.
Ian didn't know what to think. Only seconds before impact, and never getting close to hitting his target, time seemed to slow for him. With ease, he'd placed the crosshairs squarely on the missile and blew it apart. He'd heard how adrenaline could heighten your senses and had experienced it in combat before, but nothing came anywhere close to what had just happened to him.
"Woo-wee! Now, that's shoot'n," came another voice over the radio.
"Raven Two this is Diamond Five, that's some fancy fly'n, but if the shuttles are gonna make it to the surface, we've gotta take out those triple-A sites. Ya with me?"
Ian wasn't sure what to make of the other pilot.
"Uh, negative Diamond Five. I can't leave Lyons Den without an escort."
"Understood Raven Two, more fun for me. Yee-Haw!"
Ian
flipped a switch to turn off his radio.
"Yee-haw? Is this guy for real?" Ian mumbled to himself. "Where's he from?"
"From the Groviths Colony and proud of it," came the voice again. Ian quickly checked and noticed he hit the switch next to the intercom and was still broadcasting.
"I may not fly a pretty fighter like you, but I git the job done. Watch this son; you might learn somethin'."
Speeding past Ian's sleek, Dagger class fighter was an old, battered Warhammer class ship in desperate need of a paint job. Diving to the surface, the Warhammer took two direct laser blasts.
"Careful, Diamond Five," Ian yelled.
"No worries, she's built to take it," the pilot called back as he locked onto the Ramillie launching site. Arming a missile, Dakota Farabaugh smiled.
"Time for some payback," he said while launching his own attack. Ramillie troops scattered as the missile homed in on their position and blew the site to pieces.
As Alexander's shuttle continued its descent toward the terraced capital city of Paran, its towering buildings and spacious gardens became distinguishable.