by Doug Farren
“I’m not sure,” Sorbith replied. “The council did send me a video of the emergency session where the decision was reversed but I have not had the time to view it. I’ll send you a copy.”
“Thank you. Wilks out.”
Sorbith’s floating head disappeared as Tom stepped into the elevator. A few minutes later, he was back in his command chair and patched into the Earth defense network. Although he wanted to take part in the defense of Earth, his ship was still under repair and not flight-worthy.
* * * * *
“Several ships are breaking formation,” the tactical station announced.
General Shen looked up from a console where he had been discussing the situation with the World President. “Where are they heading?” he demanded.
“Looks like some of them are leaving,” the operator replied, sounding confused. “The rest seem to be moving closer to Earth but it’s not a coordinated movement.”
“What the hell kind of game are they playing?” the General asked, leaning forward to stare at the tactical display.
“General? General Shen!” the President’s voice finally made itself heard.
“Sorry Mr. President,” the General said, turning his attention away from the tactical display. He then continued his report to the President.
The Purist fleet continued to split itself into two factions. Some even reversed their course as the internal conflicts slowly resolved themselves. This strange behavior did not go unnoticed by the Earth defense forces and resulted in a flurry of theories as to what was happening. By the time the shuffling ended, 717 ships had formed a compact formation and were accelerating out of the system. The remaining 1,154 warships gathered themselves together and approached Earth. One-hundred and nine Earth defense vessels, all that remained of the fleet, positioned themselves between the Purists and Earth.
“Enemy ships are within range,” an operator announced.
“Hold fire,” the General ordered. “Give them a chance to surrender. We all know what the Tholtarans will do to any ship that doesn’t.”
At a distance of 12,000 kilometers, the Purists opened fire on the Earth fleet, targeting a single vessel.
“All batteries—Fire!” the General ordered.
The Vladivostok's shield collapsed almost instantly under the terrific onslaught of energy. The armor held for just under two seconds. Three seconds later, the battleship ceased to be a threat. As soon as the Purist sensors detected this fact, the still-firing weapons swung around to focus on the next victim.
The Earth defense forces utilized a similar tactic targeting a single AOH battleship. Lasers and particle beam weapons from both ships and ground-based weapons quickly overloaded the enemy shield blasting through the thick armor to gut the ship. The selected vessel, however, had not been chosen at random. Shafir had made a small tactical error by keeping his destroyer behind the bulk of the rest of the fleet. He had done this under the false assumption that the intervening ships would provide his command vessel with an additional layer of protection.
Although positioning a ship in such a location could also serve as a ruse to confuse the enemy, the tactical computer deep inside Cheyenne Mountain had carefully analyzed the movement of every vessel in the Purist fleet and had concluded that Shafir’s ship warranted special attention. The first two Purist vessels to be destroyed were done so with a purpose in mind. Without propulsion, the dead ships quickly moved out of position opening up a needle-thin window through the enemy fleet. As soon as it was possible to do so, every weapon available to the Earth forces targeted Shafir’s ship and opened fire.
Gigantic, surface-based laser cannons burned their way out of the planet’s atmosphere creating thunderous shock waves in the process. It was for this very reason that these installations were always located far from population centers. The laser cannons were joined by the far less powerful laser batteries of hundreds of main battle tanks. Although not specifically designed to engage a starship at extreme distance, the hundreds of tank weapons combined to add a significant amount of additional firepower to the coordinated attack. Out in space, the small fleet of Earth defense ships launched a barrage of missiles, sledgehammers, lasers, and particle beams all at the same target.
Shafir’s destroyer didn’t stand a chance. The beam weapons alone would have been sufficient to remove all life from the command ship but because the targeting had to be so incredibly accurate, the tactical computer was taking no chances. Shafir’s shield flared throwing off huge bolts of plasma into space. But the shield could only deflect so much energy. The armor began to glow, quickly running through the spectrum from infrared to white before melting then boiling off in great globules. Multiple hull penetrations appeared as the beams chewed deeper and deeper into the doomed vessel. The sledgehammers arrived delivering their payload of matter and anti-matter. As the now lifeless ship was consumed, a flurry of missiles converted the remains into a cloud of microscopic particles.
Stripped of their command ship, the Purist fleet became an uncoordinated collection of individual vessels. It didn’t take long before several of the captains changed their mind and decided to follow the first group of ships. Several of the other Captains attempted to take command of the disorganized fleet but with no firm chain of command, the attempt failed. Realizing their fleet was no longer an effective fighting force, others followed suit and within a matter of minutes, all remaining Purist ships were heading out of the system.
* * * * *
“I’m picking up another fleet!” the tactical station announced.
“Is it Tholtaran?” Captain Molta demanded.
“No Sir—the computer has identified the ships as Shandarian. They are turning to intercept.”
“How many? Composition?” the Captain asked.
“Six-hundred and forty-nine,” the tactical operator replied after examining the data that was assembling itself on his screen. “Most of them are Shandarian battlecruisers.”
“Can we evade them?” the High Sultan asked from his perch on the raised dais.
Molta walked over to the primary tactical console and peered at the display. Although he had never had to fight an actual battle, years of simulations had given him the ability to quickly and easily interpret the data presented on the screen. “Yes your Excellency. However, we will not be able to lose them.”
“What of our other ships?”
“All have broken off their attack and are on the way to join us,” the Captain replied. “If we turn back towards Earth, the fleet will be at full strength before the Shandarians can reach us giving us a sizable numerical advantage.”
“Numerical, but what about in terms of firepower—how do we fare then?”
Sweeping his fingers across the display, the Captain caused a series of numbers and graphs to appears. “A little less than two-to-one in our favor.”
Ghannam stroked his beard in thought. “And the Tholtarans?”
It required only a few manipulations of the screen before Molta replied, “The bulk of their fleet has altered course to intercept our ships that have left Earth.”
“We cannot afford to lose so many men and ships,” the High Sultan came to a decision. “Scatter our forces to the wind! If they want, they can try to hunt us down one by one.”
“Where shall I tell the men to rendezvous?” Captain Molta asked, keeping all emotion out of his voice.
The Captain maintained his professional composure as a blank look appeared on Ghannam’s face. It quickly became apparent that the High Sultan had no clue where they would go. The ships making up the Purist fleet did not carry enough supplies to allow them to operate independently for weeks or months at a time. They had abandoned their base of operations on the Mowry homeworld and their shipyard had most likely been destroyed. Safa didn’t have the resources to supply and maintain the fleet and the Alliance would certainly be waiting for them if they did decide to go there.
“Captain, a word please,” Ghannam said, standing up.
The Captain followed the High Sultan into his richly furnished quarters located only a few meters down the passageway. After excusing the three servants who appeared, the Sultan turned to the Captain and said, “You have stood by my side for nearly two decades. I trust your advice. What do you think we should do?”
“Our options are limited your Excellency,” the Captain began. “And none of our choices will be popular.”
Fifteen minutes later, the Sultan walked onto the bridge and took his seat. Captain Molta followed him in and walked around the room to take his place in the command chair. “Coms,” the Captain said after taking his seat. “His Excellency would like to make a fleet-wide broadcast.”
The communications operator’s fingers performed a short dance on his console before he replied, “Ready.”
Ghannam took a deep breath then started speaking. “This is High Sultan Jamiel Ghannam. After consulting with my advisers and carefully considering all of our alternatives, I have come to the unfortunate conclusion that our best course of action is to flee to Safa where we will abandon our ships and disappear into the population. It is impossible for me to express the admiration I’ve felt for your dedication to our cause. We will never stop fighting to free Earth from the impure influence of alien species. It would be suicide to try to continue our fight at this time. And if we are dead, then Earth truly has no hope. All ships, set course for Safa—maximum speed.”
Chapter 47
“Play the video,” Tom told the Orion.
The control room faded away as the ship took control of his cybernetic eyes. Tom found himself in the center of a large circular table surrounded by the 14 representatives making up the Alliance Grand Council. His cybernetics had been switched to virtual simulation mode giving him full control of his point of view. The Tholtaran ambassador signaled for attention by ringing a bell.
“This emergency meeting of the Alliance Grand Council is now in session,” he said, his amplified voice easily carrying to all corners of the room. As soon as the other side-conversations ended, he went on, “This session has been requested by Ambassador Marchant representing the Terrans to discuss the recent decision of this council regarding the current conflict between Earth and Safa. Ambassador…”
“As you all know,” Ambassador Izabella Marchant began. “This council issued an order declaring the conflict between Earth and Safa to be an internal Terran conflict thereby banning any interference by non-Terrans. This order was issued based on the recommendations of the Advisory Council that came to its conclusion after reviewing Alliance law as well as the existing charter governing how our various cultures interact with each other. I have recently received evidence to suggest that the Advisory Council’s decision was influenced by the Purists and should therefore be rendered as flawed and incorrect.”
“Our decision was not influenced in any way!” Ambassador Talmich shouted.
“Are you certain?” Marchant glared at the Shandarian ambassador.
“Our decision was based upon a careful analysis of Alliance law. How dare you accuse anyone of being influenced.”
“May I direct the council’s attention to special directive 47-116.” Marchant calmly said. The AI monitoring the conversation instantly retrieved the indicated document, displaying it on the monitors set into the top of the table in front of each of the ambassadors. “Fifty years ago, Safa was recognized as an independent world separate from Terrans and therefore not subject to Alliance law. This was done at their request and was supported by the Terran government to allow the Purists to live out their lives free from the influence of non-Terrans. Based upon this fact, Safa’s attack on Earth should have been viewed—”
“Safa is populated by Terrans,” Ambassador Talmich interrupted. “By attacking Earth, they proved that their request for independence was only part of a long-term plan to overthrow Earth’s government. The advisory council therefore determined that Safa’s status as an independent world was no longer valid.”
“Without obtaining the concurrence of the full council?” Marchant asked.
“We deemed it to be a legal issue which falls under our authority.”
“A debatable point,” Marchant said, just loud enough for the comment to be heard. Quickly raising her voice before Talmich could reply, she said, “Tell me Ambassador Talmich, is it true that you have a very close association with a large weapons manufacturer?”
“I do, but that has nothing—”
“Is it also true that this same company prefers to obtain its raw materials from its mining subsidiaries?”
“It’s more cost productive that way,” Talmich replied. Turning to the Tholtaran ambassador, Talmich said, “Chairman, I believe Ambassador Marchant has strayed from the purpose of this meeting and I ask—”
“I assure you Mr. Chairman,” Marchant interrupted. “I have a very good reason to be asking these questions.”
The Tholtaran ambassador glanced at Talmich then said, “Ambassador Marchant still holds the floor—please continue.”
“Ambassador Talmich, is it also true that after the Purists colonized Safa, it was rediscovered by a survey ship belonging to one of your companies?”
“I do not see—”
“Answer the question,” the Chairman interrupted.
A movement caught Tom’s attention. Turning, he saw a Peacekeeper quietly enter the room. He stopped in front of the door, blocking it. Looking around, Tom saw that the other exits had been similarly blocked. None of the ambassadors seated at the table seemed to notice.
“I think that’s a true statement,” Talmich replied. Tom wasn’t sure, but it seemed as if the Ambassador had suddenly become nervous.
“Can you tell me why the results of the survey have never been released?” Marchant asked.
“It’s proprietary information. We are not—”
“It might be proprietary,” Marchant said, looking down at a spot on the table. “But your employees were quite willing to share the information with a Peacekeeper who paid a visit to your corporate headquarters.”
Talmich’s head snapped around to glare at Marchant then quickly looked at several of the other ambassadors. His hands formed themselves into tight balls. He opened his mouth but said nothing.
“It must have been a shock to find the Purists had gotten there first,” Marchant said, standing up. “The fact is, you’ve been negotiating with the Purists for decades in an attempt to gain access to what your survey ship discovered. I bet you haven’t told them about the incredible wealth lying below them—have you?”
Talmich’s face had become red and his attention was now totally focused on Marchant, a look of barely controlled rage distorting his face. Tom couldn’t tell if he had noticed the presence of the Peacekeepers or not.
Walking around the table, Marchant continued, “In case the other Ambassadors are curious, the survey ship discovered an exceptionally large deposit of heavy metals buried beneath over a kilometer of permanent ice. The geological evidence indicates this deposit is the result of a very large impact several thousand years earlier. But that wasn’t all, was it? The surface probes also discovered that the ice on Safa contains eight times the amount of deuterium normally found in water.”
Marchant’s slow walk had taken her to a spot next to Talmich. The Shandarian was looking up at her, anger boiling just beneath his barely controlled exterior. “And then, the Purists offered you a deal you simply could not refuse,” she said. Although she tried not to, she couldn’t help but smile. “Computer, display item one for the Ambassadors to read.”
Talmich glanced down at the document that appeared then stood up so fast his chair tipped over. He had a wild look on his face as he looked around the room. It was then he noticed the Peacekeepers standing calmly in front of all the exits.
“Orion, do you have a copy of that document?” Tom asked.
The scene around him froze then faded away. The same document the ambassadors had been shown was displayed on the screen in front of him
. It wasn’t very long, but it was incredibly damning. The first part was a copy of the message Dennis’s group had unearthed in the massive archive of communications found in the computer in the basement of the old AST building. Since it was only a confirmatory message, it was severely lacking in details. The attached summary of the Peacekeeper investigation provided the explanation.
Talmich owned 63% of one of the largest military weapons suppliers in the Alliance. They had achieved this status by building their weapons manufacturing plants close to the source of the raw materials needed in their construction. The mines were also owned by the same company. From raw material to final product, the company was virtually self-sufficient. Safa’s combination of a vast supply of heavy metals and the extremely unusual concentration of deuterium in its ice made it an unbelievably valuable planet. Talmich’s company kept the results of the survey to themselves and then began to aggressively approach Safa’s government to obtain permission to set up operations on the planet. Over a period of many months, they continued to increase their offers.
Nearly 40 years ago, the High Sultan floated a proposal that Talmich quickly accepted. Talmich’s company would provide the Purists with the automated machinery necessary to build advanced weapons and agreed to update the machines as new weapons technology advanced. In return, the Sultan agreed to give the company the entire planet as soon as the Purists had achieved their goal of overthrowing Earth’s government. When Talmich found himself in the position as chairperson of the Alliance Advisory Council, he decided to use his influence to ensure the Puritans achieved their goal.
Five people sat on the Alliance Advisory Council, each one from a different race. Each person held the position for five years. At the time the Purists moved to attack Earth, the advisory council consisted of a Shandarian (Talmich), a Terran, a Tholtaran, a Lamaltan, and a Rouldian. Talmich saw a perfect opportunity and asked the advisory council to recommend that the coming war between Safa and Earth be declared as an internal Terran conflict. Talmich’s company was in negotiations with the Lamaltans to renew an extremely large weapons contract. In return for securing his vote, Talmich promised to renew the contract as well as provide a discount on the cost of the weapons.