by Yakov Merkin
None of the Felinaris stopped, barreling through confused workers when necessary on their way to the service entrance, which was locked again. Nayasar didn’t bother to wait for Tresken to hack the system; she simply kicked the door down and proceeded. The enemy knew that they were there, if who they were was still unknown.
As the team ran outside, Nayasar contacted Team Two. “Team Two, cancel previous instructions. Target is down, but our presence is known. Return to the drop off point immediately!”
“Understood,” Bohdan replied simply.
Nayasar then contacted Mir, on board the ship. “Change of plans. Come back to where you put us down,” she ordered.
“Understood. Be there in two minutes.”
As Nayasar led her team to the drop off point, she heard the familiar sounds of police sirens approaching. Fortunately, most of the security would be headed to Serak’s office.
Nayasar and her team reached the drop off just as the ship did. “Let’s go!” Mir said. “The longer I stay this low, the greater chance someone will notice.”
“Up to the ship!” Nayasar ordered. A pair of ropes had been lowered from the ship’s secondary loading area, on its belly, dangling some six meters in the air. Flis and Tresken went first, leaping into the air, grabbing the ropes, then climbing the rest of the way up and into the ship. Tzia went next, and Kiari paused before jumping. “You don’t plan on staying here, do you?” she joked. “You’re kind of important, you know.”
“I’m waiting for the second team,” Nayasar said. “Get yourself inside.”
“Of course,” Kiari said, then made the jump herself.
“I think something’s found us!” Mir said to Nayasar.
“So long as there’s no threat to the ship, stay where you are,” she ordered.
“Will do,” he replied. “But I’d be prepared for company if I were you.”
Nayasar holstered her pistol and retrieved her rifle from its spot on the small of her back, unfolded it, and held it in a ready position.
“Team Two, status!” she demanded.
“Two blocks away!” replied Bohdan. “Police are setting up barricades, and I see some heading your way.”
“Just get here!” Nayasar shouted. “Tzalaf, what’s your position?” she added. The sniper had been separated from the rest of the teams.
“A few rooftops away!” came the reply. “Climbing down was too risky.”
“Understood. We’re waiting.”
An agonizingly long minute later, Team Two arrived. “Get into the ship!” Nayasar ordered.
Two jumped up, then two more. Nayasar and Bohdan were about to jump themselves when a half dozen of Kidor’s black uniformed police officers began to fire at the invisible ship.
Nayasar and Bohdan opened fire with their rifles, cutting down four of the officers before the other two collapsed, felled by a singled shot from Tzalaf’s sniper rifle.
Nayasar tracked the shot, putting the sniper on the roof of a five story building across the street.
Almost immediately, more police officers drove up in dusters, and began firing at Tzalaf. They probably believed her the assassin, if they didn’t have reports on Serak’s injuries yet.
“I’m pinned down!” Tzalaf said over the channel.
“Hold position,” Nayasar ordered. “We’ll come to you!”
She turned to Bohdan. “Get into the ship.”
“And what about you?” he asked.
“I’ll take care of me. Just do what I tell you.”
“As you command,” he replied, then leaped up and climbed into the ship.
Once he was inside, Nayasar jumped as well, but stayed on the rope.
“Fly over Tzalaf’s position!” she ordered.
“Well this is more fun then I expected,” Mir quipped, but obeyed quickly, rising higher into the air and flying directly over the building Tzalaf was on.
As she passed over the police on the ground, Nayasar let loose with a spray of automatic fire. She didn’t look to see if she hit anyone. She just needed them to stop shooting.
“Get up here!” she ordered.
“On my way,” Tzalaf replied, then jumped onto the second rope.
Nayasar compressed her rifle and put it back into its slot, then made her way up the rope. Tzalaf made slower progress, still holding onto her weapon.
“Come on!” Nayasar shouted, not bothering with the comm channel. Tzalaf was completely exposed on the rope.
“One second!” Tzalaf shouted back as she squeezed off a pair of shots. Only then did she let her rifle hang by its strap over her shoulder and climb into the ship.
“A couple of our hosts thought we wanted anti-tank missiles. I respectfully declined.”
The comment brought a round of laughter from the team as they headed to the ship’s central lounge.
“To a mission well done!” Nirra said as she removed her helmet and produced a small bottle of white crihal, a popular alcoholic beverage, from a pouch in her armor.
“Well done everyone,” Nayasar said, smiling broadly as she removed her own helmet. “I think we’re up for doing one more before we head back, what do you think?”
They’d only been gone a few days. They could do one more and be back before the next attack. Even Darkclaw and Felivas wouldn’t miss her yet.
The team immediately voiced their agreement in varied ways, even Mir chiming in from the cockpit, mentioning that he could fly the ship for a week, it handled so nicely.
There would be several hours at least before it would be worthwhile to plan the next move. So for now, Nayasar let herself celebrate the success with her team, her friends. People she could actually count on.
One target down, seven to go.
CHAPTER 18
“Where in empty void of space is Nayasar?” Darkclaw demanded, speaking to Felivas through his private terminal. The fleet was nearly ready to move to its next target; the Bondar system, which housed more than half of the Legion Navy shipyards, and one of its planets, Daukar, held one of the Alliance military’s largest research bases. It was a very high value target, and Darkclaw expected heavy resistance, at least twice as much as had been encountered at Venariss.
“I’ve been asking the same question myself,” Felivas said. “This is not like her.” He sounded worried. “I assure you, if I knew where she was I wouldn’t hide it from you. I’ve already begun a low-profile search, but I’m also prepared to lead the battle myself.”
“Do what you must. I need the both of you here,” Darkclaw replied, hoping he didn’t sound too desperate. But there were few people he could speak openly to.
“I will,” Felivas said simply. “And regardless, my forces will be ready to move when you are. Oh, one more thing. Your new bodyguards have been selected. They will meet you on Daukar’s surface. Felivas out.” The transmission ended, and Darkclaw slumped back in his chair.
Felivas likely was telling the truth. There was no real reason for him to lie, though Darkclaw was certain that the admiral had suspicions that he was not sharing. But it was not worth it to pry. Felivas had enough to deal with already, and he was competent. But this was just another unwanted problem. It seemed that ever since he’d made the fateful choice to turn against the High Lord, there had been one difficulty after another.
The invasion of the Bondar system was meant to have taken place days ago, but the fleet was only just now prepared to get underway. Of course, the situation was in large part Darkclaw’s fault. He had had the innocence chip—a most ironic name, particularly given the circumstances—installed shortly after his conversation with Felivas where they had decided to go through with it. Fortunately, the recovery time had not been too long, thanks both to modern medicine and Darkclaw’s physiology. But the process of manually rearranging his thoughts, placing anything that would betray his decision to the High Lord into the device, had taken days. It would be simpler now, as Darkclaw could move new thoughts as they came, but it had delayed them for too long. And after
that, there had been an issue with the inter-fleet battle network that had taken some time to be resolved. It was due, the Felinaris and Snevans had said, to their overuse and lack of proper maintenance, in addition to the haste in which the integration had been done.
And now Nayasar was missing. Where she was and what she was doing he could not say, but with her gone and Felivas now busy, in command of the Felinaris fleet, there was no one Darkclaw could talk to. Even once he did pick up his new guards, who would know everything; it would not be the same. He did not know them, and he would not feel as comfortable confiding in them.
It was only a matter of time before the war ended, and the slim chance they had to stop the High Lord would be lost. But Darkclaw could not allow himself to give up hope. There were still dozens of Reizan’Tvay outposts unsearched throughout Alliance space. Somewhere, in one of them, there had to be an answer.
Then Darkclaw’s personal terminal beeped and Darkclaw accepted the call. “Executor,” began Ship Commander Gadelius, “all fleets have checked in. All is ready for departure.”
“Send the command to depart,” Darkclaw ordered, rising from his chair. “I will be on the command deck presently.”
“Of course, Executor,” the officer replied, then ended the call.
Darkclaw stood still for a few moments before exiting his quarters and heading toward the command deck. It was time to continue the High Lord’s war.
* * *
Darkclaw ordered all ships to open fire as the fleets dropped out of hyperspace within range of the Legion Navy ships orbiting Daukar’s largest moon, which housed more than a quarter of the Legion’s shipyards. As he had expected, the enemy forces were not fully prepared for a large-scale attack; the ships were arrayed to defend the moon, but there were too few of them, barely more defenders then there had been at Venariss II. Was this also due to the High Lord’s influence? Or was the Alliance simply unsure of how to properly position their forces? Or was it a trap?
The Hudecar’s sensors were reading seven hundred active warships protecting the shipyards, and two hundred fifty more elsewhere in the system. The Legion could field nearly eight thousand ships. Where were the rest of them?
While it was entirely possible that this was another gift from the High Lord, Darkclaw would not allow himself to fall for another trap, not after the near disaster over Darvia.
He ordered the Felinaris fleet to remain in reserve should enemy reinforcements arrive, and ordered his own fleet as well as the Snevans to advance at full speed. If he hit the enemy hard and fast enough, they would not have time to put their plan into action, if one existed at all. Darkclaw ordered his ships to launch fighters as well, to prevent the Legion Navy from evacuating its forces from their facilities.
As the battle progressed, Darkclaw saw that, in fact, the Legion Navy had simply been unprepared. They did not react quickly enough to his advance, and dozens of warships were destroyed in Darkclaw’s fleet’s first attacks. After this, the enemy fleet was far more coordinated, but by that point they were simply outmatched. Outgunned and outflanked, there was no hope for the Legion Navy to hold onto the moon. However, they did not surrender, and did not flee en masse, rather withdrawing slowly as their fighters engaged those of the Tyrannodons and Snevans and provided cover for shuttles to escape the shipyards.
Darkclaw could have ordered his forces forward to more quickly crush the Legion Navy fleet and prevent any ships from escaping, but he chose not to. After all, there could still have been a trap in place. Better to be cautious. When the remains of the enemy fleet finally did decide to pull out, once as many shuttles as possible had escaped the shipyards and they were being pushed even harder, they first destroyed the shipyards themselves. Of course. They must have thought that he intended to capture them. Darkclaw deliberately waited for a short time before ordering the pursuit, to ensure that no ships were damaged in the destruction of the shipyards—and to allow the three hundred surviving ships to escape.
The day was theirs. This would be a serious blow to the Alliance. Many of the shipyards held nearly completed warships, which were destroyed along with the facilities. A relatively easy victory, though seventy warships, primarily Tyrannodon, and an as yet unknown number of fighters had been lost. Had this victory happened even a few weeks earlier, Darkclaw would have been satisfied, a job well done. But now, Darkclaw was conflicted. On the one hand, he was happy—which was still strange to feel—that the space battle was over so quickly, with as little loss of life as could be hoped. Maybe he’d be lucky and discover a way to end the High Lord before he was forced to fight another larger scale battle and make a future peace even more unlikely.
On the other hand, however, a swifter victory brought the High Lord’s goal of a conquered Galactic Alliance ever closer, leaving Darkclaw less time to find a solution. A sobering thought.
Before long, the fighting was over. The surviving Legion Navy warships, the majority of those that had been defending the system, had fled. The Galactic Alliance shipyards were in ruins, the Alliance’s production capacity cut by more than a quarter. And it made a counterattack less likely, with the system’s most valuable asset destroyed. All that remained now was the research facility on Daukar’s surface, which had not been evacuated, as far as he could tell. It would have already been a high priority target for Darkclaw because of its weapons research and prototype technology, along with the military intelligence stored there. He hoped that there would be something he or the Felinaris could use to slow the war down, or reduce casualties in some way.
But what Darkclaw really wanted was to find something on the Reizan’Tvay. He had pored over the files recovered from the moon Xearin, and there had been nothing he could term useful for what he needed to do. Of course, a way to destroy an invulnerable energy being was a fairly specific thing. The only hope was that an outpost would hold something. There was a recorded outpost on Daukar, but it had been likely been destroyed or discovered by the Alliance long ago. Darkclaw hoped for the latter, that the Alliance had discovered the Reizan’Tvay outpost, and at least stored what they found. It was a bit too much to hope that they had developed weapons based on Reizan’Tvay technology, though that would be a nice stroke of luck. It did not matter who killed the High Lord: Darkclaw had no aspirations to glory, no overwhelming desire to strike the High Lord down personally, though if he had the chance he would not hesitate—he hoped. No, all that mattered was that the High Lord was killed, for the sake of the galaxy.
“Incoming transmission from the Swift Strike,” stated the communications officer.
“Understood,” Darkclaw replied, then manually routed the call to a display on the fleet command deck.
“Executor,” Felivas said by way of greeting.
“Have you managed to locate N—the grand admiral?” Darkclaw asked before Felivas could speak.
“No,” Felivas replied coolly as he stared directly at Darkclaw, eyes narrowed. “I have been occupied managing the fleet in her absence—something which I am not sure I am prepared for—in addition to forging an explanation for her absence. An absence that is your fault, Executor. I will not inhibit my performance in the service of my people because you are worried. Besides, you don’t need Nayasar here for any tactical reason I can think of. You can wait. I will get to it when there is time.”
“I apologize,” Darkclaw said. He had let his words get ahead of him. “I am simply concerned. You do not know what it is like to be almost completely isolated, unable to fully trust your own kind,” he added quietly.
“I understand, Darkclaw, and I appreciate your concern for Nayasar’s safety. But she can take care of herself. For myself, I am more concerned with the too easy victory we just won.” Felivas was definitely lying; he most definitely was more concerned with Nayasar’s disappearance. If not, then Darkclaw had misjudged the Felinaris admiral all along.
“The victory is not something to be concerned about,” Darkclaw replied. “As I may have mentioned to you, I believe that
the High Lord has somehow, I don’t know how precisely, managed to extend his influence to high-ranking Alliance personnel, having them sabotage the Alliance’s organization and strategy from within. That would explain why we have seen so little of the Legion Navy, which your intelligence services have reported is completely mobilized.”
Felivas nodded. “Well, I suppose that’s better than walking into another trap. However, my advanced infiltration teams have confirmed that there is still a sizeable Legion and Scion presence at the Solas facility.”
“I expected as much,” Darkclaw said. “My forces will begin landing presently. I would prefer for my own soldiers to do the most of the front-line fighting.”
“I understand,” Felivas said. “My forces, as well as the Snevan ground forces, are ready to go.”
Darkclaw nodded, “I will give the order momentarily. See you on the ground.”
Felivas gave Darkclaw the standard Felinaris salute, hand to the opposite side of the face, one finger resting next to the mouth, eye, and ear, then terminated the transmission. He had used his right hand, generally reserved for saluting or greeting someone of equal or higher rank. Maybe Felivas was starting to trust him again.
“All forces, begin landing procedures,” Darkclaw ordered then turned to Ship Commander Gadelius. “Have my shuttle prepared. You have command of the ship until my return.”
“As you command,” Gadelius replied with a brief salute.
As Darkclaw exited the bridge and headed to the shuttle bay, Darkclaw felt hopeful that something good would come out of this battle. There had been so many disappointments, difficulties and setbacks already. It was time something unexpected and constructive happened.
* * *
Darkclaw exited his shuttle to the sounds of gunfire and shouting, only a short distance away from the facility’s main entrance. The enemy forces would have likely withdrawn into the compound to defend it, as the Darvians had. But Darkclaw had made sure that his forces would be properly prepared to deal with such a tactic the next time it was used against him. Of course, that would not make the close-quarters fighting any easier.