Gulin had seen his Tarvok direct many battles. He had witnessed unparalleled cunning and insight. But recently his attacks were reckless, sloppy, and he had ordered kills without reason. His Tarvok was teetering. Another word about the Emperor, or about a Txtian, and he would work himself up into a rage. That is when he is most dangerous. It was time to leave.
"May I be excused, Tarvok?"
Zorlog stood up quickly. "Get all the Tarvoks together, including Ryadin. I have completed my plan to engage our Emperor, but we will meet on my terms."
"Right now, my Tarvok? We are approaching Ikaire as we speak."
Zorlog grunted. "Very well, at 05.00 then. Arrange it."
"Yes, my Tarvok!" Gulin stepped back and out, silently relieved.
Zorlog sat back in his chair, anger burning deep inside him. Gulin’s visit was annoying, but his words were accurate. One must maintain a balance. In order for Purists to reign, the true enemy must die. The time would come, he knew, but not now, not yet.
He put his churning thoughts aside.
He had a planet to raid.
* * *
The fleet of pirate ships slowed to a crawl on the outside of a two planet star system, bordering on the edge of a great nebulous cloud. The background radiation was intense. Navigation was difficult. Tracing sensors worked at a minimum efficiency in such surroundings.
The ships turned in toward the second planet called Ikaire. It was the home of a peaceful race - intelligent, timid creatures that resembled, in Earth terms, a cross between a giraffe and a spider. Their multi-jointed arms were very flexible and adept, and very strong for their actual size. Unfortunately, they were in very high demand as slaves because of their ability to do intricate, detailed work. It was the type of work required to manufacture lightronic circuitry. Like a large number of other victims of the Xi-Empire, their technology was relatively primitive, and so, easy prey to the evil opportunists that would rather take than trade. In a way, they were the lucky ones. Instead of suffering through a military-style destruction, their people were simply poached by slavers.
As the fleet drew closer to the second planet, Zorlog organized multiple raid parties.
"Tarvok, I have residuals of long-range sensors!" announced a grizzled Avok, a deck officer of multiple roles.
"Source?"
"Something coming out of the nebulous cloud. Unable to refine, could be a fleet, could be nothing."
"Assault Stations!" yelled Zorlog. "You! Get a better fix on that!" he snarled at the Avok.
"Getting too much noise, the only way to be sure is to change our trajectory, Tarvok!" he snapped back.
Many other Tarvoks would have disciplined an Avok at such a response. But not Zorlog, he trusted his Avok’s skills, and this was not an empirical warship. The ways of command here were far less formal. Zorlog glared back but did not bother with a response. His mind was busy with strategy. Too large a fleet and he needed an escape route. But a patrol would be worth attacking. He had been able to out-maneuver fleet destroyers for zadiis. He had the gift.
"Navigation, roll her over 180 degrees. Tracing, do you pick anything up?"
"Yes, I have eliminated interference. I have a fleet advancing at acroluc, ten, possibly fifteen, destroyers and six cruisers." He looked up at his Tarvok, eye to eye. "We are in for a fight, my Tarvok."
A second Avok spoke up. "Ten destroyers coming from behind the first planet. I have a Karvok banner on the cruiser in the lead."
"A Karvok out here? The Emperor is clearly extending his invitation.”
“Tracing, tell me our engagement point."
"1.2 light-years from the planet, 2 light-years from the nebula."
"Communications, broadcast to all ships to hold fire," ordered Zorlog.
"We are outnumbered three to one. Why aren’t we departing, my Tarvok?" exclaimed Gulin.
"It is a gamble, but this meeting is inevitable. Communications, call to all ships, 360 degree dispersal now. All Tarvoks, ensure internal saturation within both fleets on arrival."
"What makes you think they'll let us in that close?" questioned Gulin.
"If they want me alive, they'll hold their fire."
"The flagship is hailing us, Tarvok," reported the communications Avok.
"Let’s see what this Karvok intends."
The broad, fat face of Karvok Zergut came up on the viewscreen. "Well, if it is not my old friend, Zorlog. It is good to see you again."
"Old friend? I don't recall ever meeting you, Karvok Zergut. You make assumptions."
"Perhaps I recall meeting you. Nonetheless, you are here, and we... we are also here. Order your ships to convene, Tarvok. Any further advancement will be the cause of their destruction."
Zorlog's hopes dashed to the deck floor. This was one of the seven Karvoks of the Apocalypse, the upper brass of the Empirical fleet. Unlike others, none of this elite group were to be trifled with. This one, in particular, was known to be very shrewd and very dangerous.
"Communications, send the order. Cancel infiltration, converge behind the Gohk II immediately."
Zergut smiled a toothy grin. He looked no friendlier. "The Emperor wishes to see you, forcibly if required."
"Such an escort insults me!" Zorlog spat back at Zergut. "You need more ships than what you have here if you intend to force me."
"No, I do not intend to employ force, although I cannot say I would not enjoy it. Minister Jhonk is a personal friend of mine. He would much rather see you dead. You killed his brother, the Torzon of G0015-A. Do you remember?"
"I will not admit to a criminal act against the Empire. That would be absurd."
"Do you not admit this ship you call the Gohk II was previously the Gezerk? Regardless, I must concede, with regret, that we have come in goodwill, to deliver the Emperor's invitation. Power down your weapons, Zorlog. You are being escorted back to Xilo."
Zorlog waved at the communications officer. The viewscreen went blank.
"Tactical?"
Avok Graknok was on station. He delayed but a moment as he finished his scans. "We're surrounded, my Tarvok. With this firepower and our positioning, our chances are poor."
“Yes, of course. But can we destroy the cruiser?”
“Karvok Zergut’s flagship is positioned well under cover of the destroyers. We do not have a clear shot.”
Zorlog stood quiet for a few moments, considering. He knew the situation all too well. He had merely asked Graknok in order to deflect the bad news onto the Avok, and away from him. A glance around revealed the others waiting anxiously, the tension on the bridge was intense.
"Stand down all assault stations. Prepare a shuttle. We will need to inform our deployed scout fleet, they are not to follow.”
“Avok Graknok,” he handed the Avok a small mem-cube. “Inform the Tarvoks of the scout fleet to follow these orders. You will take the shuttle – so move.”
“Yes, my Tarvok.” The junior Avok nodded eagerly, then rushed out to the shuttle bay.
Communications, pass the order: Standard formation at acroluc five. Vector coordinates set to Xilo. On my mark."
"Communications - the Karvok, again."
Zergut's grimace appeared on Zorlog’s viewscreen.
"I will comply with your invitation, Karvok. However, one of our ships is currently undergoing burner problems. They require some repair time."
"No, all ships are included in this order. No delays will be tolerated. Any exceptions will be eradicated."
"They do not have a choice in that matter, Karvok," protested Zorlog.
"Then you put them it in tow." He leaned away and uttered a short order.
"My cannon stand ready. I will personally see to it that the ship in question will not continue to have problems. Do you understand?"
Zorlog hesitated. He did not wish to lose a ship in order to have a bluff called, and Zergut would call him on it.
"As you wish Karvok, but I must remind you that our fleet is of mixed capabilities. As a group
, we can only reach a maximum of acroluc five."
"That will do, time is wasting Zorlog." The viewscreen went blank.
Zorlog focused his attention on Graknok’s replacement." Avok, confirm the shuttle is ready to launch."
“Avok Graknok stands ready to deploy, my Tarvok.”
Zorlog nodded to Charvok Gulin.
"Navigation, commence acceleration in 10 adii, and relay synchronization signal to the fleet at once.”
“Avok Graknok, standby to deploy in 1 adii."
A moment prior to Zorlog’s fleet jumping to acroluc, a small shuttle launched from the Gohk II. The escort of Xi-Empire warships missed the insignificant blip, hidden under cover between other vessels. The small shuttle orbited Ikaire until the last of Zorlog’s previously deployed scout ships returned.
* * *
At the Xeronian colony, the new ship was coming together slowly. Every part was precisely fitted and fastened. Every connection tested, every circuit tried. The first steps took the longest time.
The hull was constructed in layers. The initial superstructure was made of 15 centimeter thick plating that was pre-drilled with nanometer-wide holes, millions per square meter. The plating was installed one piece at a time. The whole structure was held together by large meter thick trusses that ran the length and width of the ship in a continuous form. There were no breaks, as that would lead to a weakness. The outside plating was melted together, much like a weld, with powerful lasers. Much of the work was done manually or via remote operated drone. It was long, arduous work. The measurements had to be precise to the nanometer. Mistakes were made, parts of the hull were cut out and redone. Test after test was performed and each result scrutinized. Repairs were made to the smallest tolerance. When it passed with the Master Shipbuilder's approval, the superstructure was in every consideration, perfect. The ship now had form, its skeleton complete.
The outside hull work continued on. Lighter plating was layered overtop the thicker plating, held together by ribs having the same function as human cartilage, flexible yet strong. The inner hull was blanketed in thin coverings, layers upon layers, no more than a few microns thick, each enveloping the hull creating an extremely strong sheathing. The material was very reactive to open air, and so, it had to be applied in a perfect vacuum.
Within every square meter of the superstructure, small microcomputers, each the size of a coin, were attached to specifically designed mounting housings. The thin covering, applied previously, was actually a power grid network that was superimposed throughout the inside layer of the hull. It connected the small microcomputers to one another. Each computer had six other redundant brothers, each connection failsafe. If one of the micro-brains were to cease functioning, a small backup program initiated, causing the defective computer to dislodge from its housing to be reabsorbed back into the ship. The empty mountings generated a signal to inform the microscopic sized maintenance robots the need for a replacement.
Small valves were mounted over each of the holes in the hull. The work was painstaking and tedious, relying on an army of nano-robots working in concert. Once completed, testing began on the entire network. It took days to verify the hundreds of thousands of connections, valves, and microcomputers. Every component had to work correctly the first time, otherwise, it was replaced. The devices were built to last indefinitely, but the Xeronians knew better. The old warship provided all the evidence that was required. Something was bound to break once subjected to the incredible stresses so common on most war vessels.
The last interior layer of plating had the consistency of plastic sheathing. Impregnated within each of these plastic plates was a chemical catalyst. Once activated, it caused the plates to soften and join together into a continuous shape, forming a seamless interior hull.
Main conduits and circuits were run at this point, within channels specifically suited for internal accessibility - a specific requirement to the overall design.
The lifeblood of the ship was pumped in between the hulls. It was a remarkable substance, called bifromalazinc. Part chemical, part suspended nano-sized machines, it remained in liquid form by the existence of a sparsely present additive. Once the additive was removed, the liquid jelled and hardened into a metallic alloy. The nanites aligned themselves within the crystalline structure to create a network of minute power channels. They also acted like viruses, digesting foreign matter within the liquid-state bifromalazinc for energy. Their programming included replacing the small coin-sized computers, keeping the valves working, and repairing any problems with the networking circuitry sheathing.
The liquid pushed its way through the first layer without any problems. The pressure was maintained at ten thousand kilograms per square centimeter for a full week. No leaks occurred. The following week the network was activated and all the valves opened. The liquid rushed through the thick hull plating into the cavity between the thicker plating and the thinner exoskeleton plating.
An unlucky Xeronian was in the way when a hairline fissure formed in the outer plating and it almost killed him. Fortunately, the injuries were localized to his left arm. The damage was severe enough that it had to be amputated and a new limb had to be cultured to replace it. The process took time, and the unlucky Xeronian remained one-armed for the duration of the project, a grim reminder to all involved.
The council demanded an investigation into the matter and ordered all construction halted. Ryan attended the hearings. He was surprised by Tmaurau's reaction to the accident. The old Xeronian was furious. Ryan had never seen a Xeronian that angry. He was fascinated. The normal light-gray Xeronian complexion turned a dark-shade of greenish-gray, the alien eyes squinted into ovals, and the normal, unremarkable jaw was forced into tight jerky tense movements. Blood vessels upon his bald head danced with vigor, pulsating to exaggerated heartbeats.
Ryan managed to talk to Tmaurau about the accident once the meeting had ended. Their discussion uncovered details he had not understood during the hearings. One fact stood out notably: the accident should not have occurred. The outside plating injection was to be done with the bifromalazinc ‘colored’ - the internal liquid was to be lacking the chemical agent that causes its liquidity to a standard parts per million suspension.
The test was done before the hullastic pump was ready. The pump acted like a heart, circulating and cooling the liquid blood. The liquid would cycle throughout the ship three times a minute, traveling through an osmosis filter that controlled the coloring. The bifromalazinc would have reacted much differently had it been colored. Once the hairline crack formed, the escaping bifromalazinc would have lost its stability and within microseconds would have hardened like a steel scab. No one would have been hurt.
The results of the review called for more stringent safety precautions, and certain individuals were penalized for rushing the work. The project continued on, this time with the engineers wary not only to their schedule but to the finer details that could affect safety.
The defective plating was replaced, and the small nano-robots autonomously repaired the damage between the hulls, as they were now activated to full-maintenance mode.
A huge cylinder was guided into the center of the ship's framework. It was a gravitonic emitter - an artificial gravity machine. The outside hull was sprayed with a gel-like substance very similar to the bifromalazinc liquid. The gravitational field pulled the gel uniformly around the hull, holding it firmly as it bonded with the hull plating. Coat after coat was applied. Each time the layer grew thicker. The gravitonic emitter was hooked into a multitude of computers and sensing equipment. The engineers made constant minute changes to the field as the gel cured. The field pulled at the malleable skin, clearing up inconsistencies and smoothing irregularities, bringing the hull to the required tolerances. The curing took a number of days. Once finished, the ship's skin was a smooth, white gloss with a durability and toughness that transcended the performance of any static solid plating. It could withstand temperatures in the millions of degrees
Kelvin, at least for a brief period, before the hull would start to deteriorate. But even during such extreme conditions, the rate of hull sublimation would be controlled as the material eroded away into a fine superheated cushion of gas - leidenfrost at work.
The outer skin was an achievement refined over a thousand years of space travel. An impervious, self-healing, extremely strong shell that was, at the same time, sensitive to the slightest of changes. A constant pulse relayed through its complex nervous system throughout, providing a feedback loop that fed into the ship's main servers. The ‘nervous system’ of the ship was carefully routed into the main servers redundantly, effectively tying the servers into every system within the ship. Ironically, the ‘core’ of the main computer control system had yet to be completed.
Internal deck levels came next. Simultaneously work also began on the drive system. Ryan had to catch himself from calling it the ‘engine’ out of old habit. The Xeronians often questioned him incessantly when he made the mistake of forming certain phrases or words that seemed logical in English but came out as ludicrous in Xeronian. Ryan had particular trouble when the words involved advanced technologies; translations to and from English and Xeronian were simply non-existent. It was sometimes difficult to relay an idea, and without the vaskpar and the access to the immense Xeronian library, it would have been impossible.
* * *
A rare day came when both Ryan and Tsaurau had a few moments to meet. Tsaurau beckoned him to his lab. "Please hurry as I have a surprise for you."
It was unusual for a Xeronian to present anything as a surprise. It piqued his interest.
"Well, what is it?"
"As you well know, the core we retrieved from the old warship was still active."
"Yes. Your historians are elated."
"Our systems specialists are elated as well. Most of the cores in the old starships were removed and transferred to newer vessels once they were abandoned. The remaining were removed and destroyed as the information they contained was too dangerous to discard."
A Bellicose Dance Page 21