“You’d sing a different tune if Rapatine was destroyed altogether, you dumb bastards,” Philip mumbled.
He hated politics, and the whining was exactly the part of politics he hated the most. The company execs only sees things as red or black on their bottom-line credits. They seemed willing to risk the lives of all those that work for them if it helped ensure a profit. As far as he was concerned, they could whine all they wanted, but as long as he was the Chief of Staff out here, he would make the decisions.
“And good luck replacing me now,” Philip said aloud. There were only his ships and his crew left in this god-forsaken place. With everyone else either on Earth or in transit, he was the only Admiral Grade Commander left. By the time they sent someone back from Earth to take over, he would probably be getting the snot kicked out of him by the Curanians. If not, he would be jumping all over the universe to avoid being wiped out.
Philip felt sure that Admiral Ackerman saw things pretty much as he did. Communiqués from Earth were becoming less and less frequent. It seemed to him that everyone was holding their breath while waiting for the Curanians to strike—and strike they would. Anyone who thought the Curanians were going to ignore picking this ripe tomato was an idiot.
Looking at the ever-present tactical display that showed everything occurring all around the Rapatine station and shipping lanes, Philip realized he could probably draw out everything in fine detail now, even with his eyes closed. The Ciat sat in formation with the other ships of his fleet waiting for the Curanians to appear. They had formed the line on the eighteen day after the fast attack had departed in preparation for an attack. When that day came, he was going to lay into their ships like never before.
Philip wished he had a couple more battle cruisers. That firepower would prove vital in this battle, and the more he had, the longer a stand he could put up. Shrugging, he knew that wishing for more ships was not going to accomplish anything. What he had sitting here was what he had to work with, ready or not.
The disbursement of the ships took advantage of the firepower each ship could provide. The Conviction and her sister ship the Poniard took the center of the battle line. They had the Rapatine Station at their back. Until the Curanians broke through his line, the station would remain intact. His six light cruisers swept left and right of the battle cruisers. They were spaced out to allow for a destroyer to reside between each of them.
Looking at one of the destroyers on the screen, he was using their additional firepower to give the light cruisers more guns, but they could also be easily directed out of line to take advantage of any weak spots in the Curanian fleet or to head off any end run by a Curanian ship. His gunships were positioned three to a side at the expected entry point the Curanians would have to use.
Nodding, Philip liked the overall placement of his ships. While the gunships were small and easily defeated, they could put out a hail of plasma bolts in one quick hurry. He was banking on that fact in their placement. He hoped that by the time the Curanians recovered from the sudden onslaught of so much rapid fire, his little ships could retreat into the battle line to add firepower while also being protected by the cover-fire of his larger ships.
“All I need now is the bastards to show up.” Philip mumbled. He wasn’t looking for a battle, but he sure hated having to wait for it. If it was going to happen, let them do it now.
◆◆◆
“The Underlings have broken through, Council Leader,” Overlord Ridnig reported. His excitement flowed out of him with each flash of his tongue.
“That is great news, Overlord. Is there any sign of the invaders?” Klickest asked.
“Not that we can see, but we have punched through on the back side of the hill just below the primary water storage. I could see the reservoir has been destroyed.”
Klickest nodded and looked at the other Masterlords. “I suspect we will find much has been destroyed. Our first priority was to escape our tomb. Now we will need to rebuild.”
“We will show these invaders that we cannot be so easily defeated!” Triff shouted.
“Overlord, send out the council guards to scour the area for any signs of the invaders,” Klickest ordered.
“At once, Council Leader.” Ridnig quickly left the chamber.
“Once we know it is safe to leave this rugg, we will begin to survey the damage and look at how best to rebuild,” Klickest said.
“What if the invaders return,” Rentum asked.
“Let them. I will personally feast on the first to set claw on this planet again,” Triff said.
Ignoring Triff’s boasting, Klickest responded, “There is nothing here for these invaders. I believe they came down, failed to find what they were looking for, and will now move on to more inviting targets. They may even believe they have wiped us out. Unless I am wrong, we have seen the last of them.”
“I hope you are right, Council Leader,” Bolard said. “I for one will never cower within a rugg again. If they come back, I plan on fighting them under the sun, like a Kracks is meant to do.”
“I agree. I will never hide in a hole again,” Wiskum added.
“Me neither!” Triff shouted. Rentum nodded his head in agreement.
Klickest did not respond, but he felt the same way. Tunnels and underground chambers were for prey, not predators, and he thought it cowardice to hide like they did. Looking up at the cracked rock that made up the ceiling of the chamber, he hoped he was right that the invaders would never come back. But if they did, he would fight to his last breath.
“Council Members, now is the time for rebuilding and healing. We lost a lot of Kracks over these many solar cycles. I intend for the remainder of my tenor as Council Leader to prevent the senseless loss of anymore. We will rebuild our surface chambers. We will roam in the open sun to hunt our prey. Never again will we look to outsiders for anything.”
The nods and whipping of tongues showed the others were in full agreement. It was time to let the healing begin.
Chapter Eighteen
Sitting on the couch next to her mother, Linda watched the newscast that updated them on the threat at Rapatine. It was clear to her that the person didn’t have anything new to report, but that didn’t stop her from talking about it like it was current. Nothing infuriated Linda more than having to listen to someone reiterate something that had been reported a dozen times before. Did they think people came out of caves and were tuning in for the first time?
Linda’s mind wandered into hoping that the old bear would be okay. As much as he hated the manipulating ways of Admiral Litton, she found a little place in her heart that prayed for his safety. If anyone gave the Curanians a fight, it would be Philip. In fact, she could not think of anyone she would want to fight this battle than him. The Admiral was a terror, and she hoped he became a nightmare for the Curanians when they arrived.
Her thoughts turned to Roger and Paula. Would they be more victims in the struggle to protect those on Earth? She hoped not. Linda almost felt like a coward sitting here watching the news while so many people were putting their lives on the line to protect her. While it was silly to think that way, since she wasn’t even a military officer, she still hated being on the sidelines with so much at stake.
Maybe Philip will get lucky and the Curanians would not show up there at all. Was that truly better, though? The question made her pause. Waiting for a battle had to be far worse than the actual event. Who would want to sit around waiting for an enemy that never showed up, but not knowing for sure if they ever would? It would be like looking over your shoulder to avoid the bully whom you knew was lurking about somewhere just waiting to pounce on you. Better that they show up and fight it out than to live in fear. Be careful, you old grouchy bear! Linda felt her eyes starting to water, so she turned her attention back to the news.
The reporter moved on to another news segment, and this one interested Linda. The Curanian captives were expected to be shipped to the old Puyallup Fairgrounds upon arrival. She suspected they
were being put there so that they could be easily protected against retribution. If the Curanian fleet did arrive in Rapatine, and if they did destroy Admiral Litton’s fleet, the death toll would be more than many could withstand. The captives could become easy targets for venting their anger.
“I suppose there are worse places to be held than at the fairgrounds,” Kristie said.
Looking over at her sister, Linda still had a hard time believing she was home for the duration. All shipping was grounded. Until the Curanian threat was over, the Governments were not taking any chances of a ship accidentally stumbling upon one of their ships and leading it right back to Earth.
“It’s a bit run down, but they should be able to fix it up again,” Donna said. “How long has it been since a fair was actually held there?” She looked over at Stewart for an answer. Linda smiled at how her mother and father always seemed to have a hidden connection when it came to that kind of communication.
“Oh, I don’t know. Sixty, maybe seventy years, I suppose. I understand they still host events there from time to time, but its glory days are long behind it,” Stewart answered.
Linda could detect some of the sadness in her father’s tone. She could recall his stories of going to the fair as a child before it finally closed for good. Returning her focus back onto the news, the middle-aged reporter tried to put on her best sorrowful face as she spoke about a local tragic event which caused Linda to tune her out again to reflect on the alien ship she flew. She would have loved to have been involved in its research, but it was Peggy’s show. They didn’t need captains. They needed smart people. The thought made Linda smile.
The feeling of sitting in that chair while that ship shot into space like a dart through a balloon had been incredible. It lit a renewed fire within her. Maybe she missed her calling as a test pilot. Once again, her thoughts made her smile.
“Do you really think the Curanians will push past Admiral Litton’s fleet, Linda?”
Kristie’s question brought Linda’s focus back into the room. She answered with, “I don’t know. If anyone can hold them back, I suspect it’ll be Philip.”
“Oh, Philip, huh? When did you get so buddy-buddy, hmmmmmmm? Were you getting a little on the side their little sister?”
“Oh, grow up,” Linda said, but also chuckled at the teasing. She deliberately refrained from trying to explain. She knew Kristie would bend any explanation she tried to give into some lewd comment anyway. Things never seemed to change when it came to siblings. She would always be Kristie’s little sister.
“Oh, did I strike a nerve?”
Linda tilted her head to one side as she gave Kristie a sideways glance while pushing her lips to one side. She hoped it told her sister to knock-it-off. Her sister’s eyes narrowed slightly as she returned a wide smile. The years had done little to separate how much the two of them looked alike. They both carried the same crow’s feet around their brown eyes and the grey hair that had long ago chased away the light-brown hair of youth. They were only a half-inch different in height, and they both carried the slightly stocky figure. When they were younger, they were often asked if they were twins. While Linda found it fascinating to be compared to her older sister, Kristie had hated it.
“I heard that the shipyards have been ordered to stop all commercial builds and prepare to convert to building military ships,” Stewart said.
Linda saw her chance to get even. “I suppose that as soon as the military puts the word out that they are seeking more officers, Kristie will be the first in line to serve under a Captain.”
“Okay, you two, that’s enough. I swear you two can’t be in the same room for ten minutes without bickering,” Donna said.
“She started it, Mom,” Linda said while turning to playfully stick her tongue out at Kristie.
“Did not!” Kristie responded while returning the gesture, causing them both to laugh.
“I don’t know how you two can make light of the situation when we have a real threat going on out at Rapatine,” Donna said. She frowned and gave them both a look that clearly told them to knock it off.
“Sorry, Mom,” Kristie said.
“Yeah, Kristie’s sorry, Mom,” Linda said, and then laughed.
“Oh, you two,” Donna said and laughed herself.
“So, Linda, what can you tell me about that alien ship? I know it was supposed to be a big secret, but the ground crews caught wind of it, and now it is shooting across the communication network like a meteor.” Kristie’s eyes lit up over the possibility that Linda might provide the scoop.
“Officially, it doesn’t exist,” Linda said. She playfully looked around as if checking for spies. “Unofficially, it is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. It runs everything through a 3D holographic control. Whatever the ship is made of it reacts to touch and alters its chemistry to whatever it feels like, or so it seems. You want a door? It makes one right where you’re standing. You need a portal, no problem, let me turn transparent for you. It is like way out there I can tell you that. Whoever designed and created that ship was centuries beyond anything we could ever imagine.”
“Do you think they will be able to recreate it?” Kristie asked.
Linda noticed that her mother and father had both become interested in the conversation, and her father turned down the volume of the newscast. While she knew she was violating her non-disclosure agreement, she hoped she could rely on her own family to be discreet. To be safe, though, she figured she’d better warn them about it.
“Look, I could get in a lot of trouble disclosing this stuff, so nothing I say leaves this room. Is that understood?”
“Yeah, yeah, we get it. Now quit stalling and give us the details,” Kristie responded.
“This thing is so far advanced that I can’t imagine us ever recreating something even remotely like it anytime soon. The material they used is beyond description. When we were in transit back to Earth, I took the opportunity to look over the propulsion system on that ship. It’s some kind of sphere that interacts in ways that goes beyond my simple mind.
“I talked in length to Peggy, and she told me that she didn’t even know where to begin on trying to understand the thing. She said she was still trying to figure out how the controller, that TR17 thing, worked. If I had my way, I would say screw trying to figure it out and let me fly it around for a while. You could sell tickets to people who would want to get inside just for a peek, let alone a ride.”
“It sure makes one wonder how in the world something like that wound up on the Kracks’ planet in the first place,” Donna said.
“It sure does,” Stewart added.
“That is a mystery we may never solve. From what I saw there, I’m not even sure the Kracks are alive anymore. The Curanians seemed hell-bent on butchering them. If ever there were creatures that held a lasting grudge, it was the Curanians. Admiral Litton is going to have his hands full. Lord help us if that species ever makes it to Earth. I hope when that day comes, we are better prepared for them.”
◆◆◆
The message displaying on his monitor gave Ron Ackerman pause. Philip had just given him a piece of information that went far beyond amazement. The bigger question was if they could exploit it or not. As he pondered the question, he read the message again.
To: Admiral Ron Ackerman, Chief of Staff—Earth
From: Admiral Philip Litton, Chief of Staff—Rapatine
RE: Potential Opportunity for Resolving the Curanian Question
Ron;
In a conversation with the captive Curanian Muni, Commander of the Fice, the conversation came up regarding the political structure of the Curanian society. It appears that the entire community revolves around a single deity known as a Supreme.
Interesting to note, the Supreme drives all ongoing Curanian activity, especially in their war-like behavior toward other cultures, such as ours. Muni said that a future Supreme is selected and mentored by the current Supreme. This would lead one to believe that the political make-
up of the current Supreme is passed down to the next Supreme, who will take his or her place. To me, this sounds much like a kingdom, where the heir to the throne remains within the family, and therefore, the wishes of the King or Queen are passed along from generation to generation.
According to Muni, he believes that the youthful age of the current Supreme has negated the need to begin the mentoring of whoever will be the next Supreme. What do you believe would happen if this current Supreme was eliminated before another Supreme was selected? Would it not be the same as a King dying without any heirs to take his place? Does it not send a country into disarray as internal struggles distract from external activities?
Muni, and his counterpart Nock, both decided to stay as captives rather than be returned to their own people. There seems to be high anxiety over retribution to them for allowing themselves to be captured, or that was how I read it. If this reflects the overall feelings of the Curanian population, taking out the Supreme as soon as possible should be of high priority.
I am sending this information to you to prevent its loss if I fail to return from Rapatine. Since the Curanians have been sent to Earth, further conversation with Muni would be warranted to determine the location of the Curanian’s home planet, along with how such an opportunity could be exploited.
If I am no longer able to communicate with you again, it has been a pleasure knowing you.
With all due respect, Philip
Ron felt a lump in his throat that this could end up being the last communication he would have with his old friend. His longtime friend and cohort was saying goodbye in his own way. Philip knew his chances of surviving the attack were minimal, and Ron had to agree. The battle cruisers would be primary targets for the Curanians to take out first. He felt bad that he could not offer his Earth fleet to make their stand worthwhile. What good did it do to keep their primary fleet stationed here while the real battle would take place at Rapatine?
The Curanian Dominance: The Linda Eccles Series - Volume Three Page 13