“Everyone?”
“The Flukkens are lost to time.”
"What do you remember of these engineered creatures?"
"What about the Ancients? What did they do to combat this life-form? How did they kill it?"
Tseman coughed, her body racked with the strain. "I am sorry. It was so long ago. My memory is compromised. It may be, the creature has a soft underbelly, such as the nature of things. It is also possible, by my recollection, these monstrosities moved so quickly they would seem only a blur to our sight and senses. They procreate by injecting their eggs into its victims, or any other biological matter. In a matter of hours the eggs turn into larva insectum, within days they would grow to a formidable size. They are creatures of consumption. Their metabolism remains elevated until all food sources around them are depleted. In their own way, these creatures are slaves, that is, to their obsession to consume."
“Yes, fitting they would die of starvation,” Ryan sounded off more to himself than the others.
Old Xeronian's eyes again came to focus on him. "Perhaps so. That is all I can provide. The old ones from that time have become silent. I am the only one who remembers the truth, and now you know."
"Then I thank you, Tseman."
"Good luck, Commander," she whispered, and quietly pulled herself into a more rigid posture, resuming her trance-like state.
Ryan and Tsaurau got up and bowed respectfully before leaving. Once outside, they resumed conversation.
"Before you say anything, you do realize these retired warships are key to our success, regardless of any possible risk," stated Ryan.
"Yes, I realize this, and yes, we should be able to recommission these ships once again," replied Tsaurau.
“So, we’ll exercise necessary precautions and get those ships.”
“Yes. We will.”
“Then the matter is decided. More importantly, can you tell me of Aviore's status?"
"We must proceed to the medical area. They are ready, but Aviore has insisted that you be there before they begin."
The walk was quick, Ryan’s mind distracted as he attempted to suppress his own dark thoughts.
This will go well.
Aviore smiled at them as they arrived. "We've been waiting for you."
"I heard. How are you doing?"
"I'm as ready as I'll ever be. I hope this doesn't hurt too much."
Ryan chuckled, "Considering what you've been through, this will be a pinch."
He held her hand throughout the procedure. Everything went smoothly, which was not surprising, considering the caliber of the medical team.
* * *
A few from Earth decided to join the ranks. A few of these were brave enough to follow Aviore’s example and request a vaskpar implant. Those volunteers were given an accelerated program of training. Ryan oversaw the group’s development, which included Aviore. Notwithstanding, she was, of course, his favorite student. Unique in many ways, her hunger for knowledge grew as her vaskpar evolved. It was not long before she mastered the Dancing Queen’s becoming a proficient pilot.
Gem was also quite happy that she had a new friend. She learned tricks from Aviore to contest Ryan's wit. The resulting humor helped keep all of them sane. This was a welcomed side-effect as captured ships began arriving in noticeable numbers. The Showmish captains had joined forces with the Brogs and Nuboks. Wharsoff coordinated the efforts to secure each sector, maintaining an organization of small cellular forces, each with a focused set of goals. Xeronian technology was applied to the communication network, and soon relay points and surveillance nodes were being deployed to every quadrant of the explored galaxy.
Intelligence information flooded in, targets identified, and enemy vessels seized. With each ship, cargo and slaves were liberated, and their crews shipped to prison camps on Signus. More and more recruits flooded in, all wishing to join the growing armada.
Seven races had joined the cause to date: Signites, Showmish, Brogs, Nuboks, Narkusites, Krelps, Xeronians, and of course, Earthlings. The Krelps were the most recent addition. They required an atmosphere of nitrogen dioxide, methane, sulfur dioxide and carbon monoxide at a mixture highly poisonous to humans. Their environment suits allowed them to intermingle with others and effectively hid their appearance. Very few had seen them in their natural state, with the exception of Aviore. She was, after all, one of the few resident linguistics experts. Her work required her to suit up and enter the Krelp vessels. What she saw initially shocked her. The aliens resembled a very large caterpillar, with skin of gold, laced with dancing lines of white and purple that followed the lateral lines of their body from tip to tip. An array of tentacles shot up from under their ‘belly’, each narrowing down into three joint-less, opposing muscular fingers at their end.
They were an imposing creature, an adult Krelp easily exceeding the total mass of three or four men. Holding up their tremendous body were six legs, similar to an elephant's, exempting the toes. Their language was based on vibrations, much like the audio vibrations through the air, although they were much more sensitive. Once Aviore managed to establish a baseline for communication, she was able to build an equivalent symbolism. From there she and her team attempted to build a Krelp translator, albeit with limited success. The Krelp's language held meaning, ideas, that were simple but untranslatable. Language was based on perception, and the Krelps' view of the universe was radically different from humans'. Regardless, the translator was successful enough to bridge the gap needed, although crude.
Wharsoff was attempting to oversee the massive organizational problems occurring throughout the multiple bases, but the burden was becoming increasingly difficult, if not impossible. His last report to Ryan made it clear something needed to be done.
Ryan called a general assembly with all leaders currently on base. The first order of business was a simple challenge - assign a name to their movement. A number of ideas were submitted, but Ryan appreciated the most simple and direct: The Galactic Alliance. The next priority was defining the exact organization the Galactic Alliance would implement as its overall structure. Ryan had requested the help of many to pull it together. In essence, this structure was to be the glue that would hold the Alliance together, during and after the war - assuming of course, that they succeeded.
There were to be two arms of the Galactic Alliance, the Council, and the Militia. On the Council, each race had an elected Ambassador, three Trade Ministers, and three Judicators of Galactic Law. All positions were to undergo a re-election process every five years, or three cycles in Galactic time. That rule was put in place to control the very real possibility of corruption. On the Militia side, each race provided three generals, who reported directly to the Commander of the Militia, who would in turn report to the Council. It was a structure defined to manage the true power of the growing militia.
Once Ryan finished and tabled the completed proposal, he wrapped up by explicitly outlining his position as Commander of the Alliance as a transitory one. This started a heated debate, which eventually forced Ryan to accept an honorary title within the organization, post-war. He accepted grudgingly, as he did not feel he was worthy of such a title without extensive experience in war. It did not seem to matter to the members of the assembly. The decision was made, and he was the obvious choice. In the end, everyone was satisfied, if not totally, then partially, and so the Galactic Alliance was born. Its birth marked the beginning of hope to a quiet and vigorous rebellion, which was methodically gathering strength.
Luckily, the Empire and Purists forces had ignored the cries for help from the fringe colonies. Neither had the resources free to investigate the allegations of rebellion. Such news was expected, since all crucial military strength had been withdrawn into the core quadrants. The primary worlds of the Xi-Empire did not, however, realize the full extent or success of the rebellion.
Accurate, authoritative information was difficult to collect in a background of chaos. Collecting statistics on lost merchant and sl
averships that wandered out into the fringe systems was all but impossible. Indeed, when such news did filter up to command level, it was often dismissed as mere casualties of war. Such news served little advantage to either party.
* * *
The Galactic Alliance Militia's first significant target was an outer planet in the Gamian quadrant called Gedricka. It was a relatively new docking and ship repair facility for the Xi-Empire fleet, which was now under the ownership of the Xilozak Purist organization, and would prove key in helping the Alliance repair and refit captured vessels.
They planned the raid in phases. The first phase encompassed infiltrating the bases to strategically place bombs on the communications network hubs and the tracing relay centers. Second phase was the assumption of control of as many ships as possible without causing a distraction. Third phase was attack and obliterate – that is, obliterate everything that would serve no value to the Alliance.
Ryan led the ground attack on the spaceport personally, contrary to the disapproval of many of his generals. He found they were not near as difficult to circumvent as his wife, as they eventually compromised. Aviore eventually agreed to follow along with the mission in the Dancing Queen, maintaining an acceptable safe distance from the base, on standby in case he needed her.
Multiple teams landed on the spaceport under the cover of darkness, using captured ships and fake clearance identification. They dispersed quickly, their targets known intimately. Ryan led his particular team on a mission to disable the backup sensor array near the spaceport. There were five on the team, two Showmish, McClary and Kanook.
They terminated the guards with stealth and positioned the bombs where they would be most effective. He ordered the group to move up into the forward array tower and came face to face with five Xilozak officers. Ryan killed the first with his disrupter sword and shot another with his blaster. Two others were taken down by Kanook, and McClary took care of the last. Ryan progressed through the tower hastily, Kanook and McClary on his heels. The Showmish took up the rear, covering the entrance.
"What's up my boy? Why this tower?" whispered McClary.
"Let's just say I want to know if they're expecting any new arrivals. Our tracing scans are only so good. This base has an extended range."
They hit the primary control room and made quick work of the inhabitants. Ryan signaled them to fan out and took a second to survey the spaceport through the tower’s windows. He could see a few remaining guards shuffling through the maze of landed starships, but that was it.
No surprises so far.
He examined the system consoles, and with Gem's help, managed to pull up an arrival list. "Shit,” he exclaimed out loud, rushing to adjust the tracing sensors.
Kanook moved in beside him. "Trouble?"
“Hit that switch over there. We need to initiate a long-range scan.”
It took a second for the images to appear on the graphics display. “OK, this is now verified. Boys, looks like we're going to have company."
“What’s up, Commander?” asked McClary.
"Just a few destroyers and a couple cruisers, coming in at acroluc."
He checked the tracing scanner image one more time, hoping his interpretation was wrong. In one way that was a remote possibility. The Xi-Empire controls were a mishmash of Txtian and Xilozak equipment. How they ever managed to marry their technology together was beyond him.
"I estimate we have about 10 minutes before the first squadron of the Purist fleet arrives. I expect the majority of the fleet will remain in orbit, but we’ll definitely have company down here. It's time we adapt our plans to the new situation."
He issued the orders to the other teams: stop and secure. Whatever number of ships they had seized would be what they were taking. Gem relayed the news to the support teams in orbit using a tight band transmission. The Alliance ships retreated, putting the sun between them and the approaching enemy's vectors. They dispersed on different trajectories to avoid creating a strong tracing signature. Aviore, however, had a different strategy. She landed the Dancing Queen in a crater on the nearest moon and shut down her systems to avoid detection.
Within the tower, the tracing scanner image was already coming alive with signals. Voices rang over the tower communications station.
Ryan went to acknowledge. McClary grabbed his arm. “Are you crazy?”
“They need to think everything is OK here. Otherwise, they’ll come in fully armed and expecting trouble.”
Ryan cleared his throat and acknowledged using his best Xilozak. A few painful seconds later, they acknowledged back.
“Let's get the hell out of here – and quickly."
They were just exiting the tower when the Purist fleet arrived.
The ships flew overhead in a thunderous rumble, shaking the buildings around them. For a brief moment, night turned to day as a dozen Xi-Empire destroyers landed simultaneously on the spaceport’s hardtop.
Ryan and his team retreated to cover between the nearby buildings. He chanced one more long-range transmission over his vaskpar.
"Aviore, when you get the chance, get out of here."
He clicked the transmitter one more time.
Nothing. Why didn’t she acknowledge? No more time.
A quiet settled over the spaceport once again, until the hatches opened and the ramps dropped. They watched as Xilozaks began to file out of the monstrous ships, noisily growling and spitting out comments to one another. A couple started fighting, bashing and kicking one another. What seemed to pass as officers broke them up only to contend with another fight.
"Damn animals," Ryan commented dryly. He pulled out his portable communicator and switched to an encrypted channel open to each of the boarding teams. All but one had secured their target ship.
He made another visual check. Fleet officers were filing out now, garbed with more colorful and ornate uniforms.
"Commander, we are ready," the last team reported in.
"Good. On my mark, fire the burners and power up your cannon. Get ready to blast the shit out of these Xilozaks and every ship that we haven't seized."
He glanced across the spaceport. Only the stragglers were left now with a handful of officers. His team needed to get to the third ship on the left. They proceeded in pairs, using everything at their disposal as cover. Within minutes they were meters from the entrance. To reach it, however, they were going to be fully exposed.
Ryan, Kanook, and McClary positioned themselves to provide the best defensive cover. Ryan gave the signal and the Showmish dashed ahead, running on all fours, low to the ground, utterly silent, then it was McClary’s turn.
A group of Xilozak officers were approaching at a sauntering gait.
Kanook and Ryan pulled back, finding cover behind a collection of storage drums. They were so close now, it felt like he could reach out and touch them. A voice cut through the still night air, giving orders to the others. The group stopped. They passed something amongst them, just like humans would share a smoke.
Why the hell did they have to stop here, anyway?
The sounds of scuffling came from the spaceport’s main entrance. The officers turned, distracted - another fight had broken out in the distance.
Kanook nudged Ryan to go, but he waved him on. He had to stay. There was something vaguely familiar about that officer.
Kanook moved like a cat, sprinting silently to the ship’s hatch. He slid back into darkness. No one noticed.
Good. Just him left.
The quiet night was shattered as one of the captured destroyers initiated its burner warm-up sequence. The low vibration carried through the night air.
Ryan cursed under his breath.
Who the hell ordered that?
He gave the ‘GO’ signal to the rest. The other ships fired their burners almost simultaneously in a cacophony of roars.
The Xilozaks began walking in his direction, their attention now focused upon the destroyer powering up behind Ryan. As they passed under an over
head light, Ryan saw something that made his blood turn ice cold.
A long, sharpened disrupter bar swung lazily from his belt as he walked, slapping on his thick leg in a deadly rhythm. He had seen only one Xilozak carry such a weapon – Zorlog.
The big Xilozak must have sensed something was wrong, as he started blasting out angry orders to the other officers. Some of them began to sprint toward the captured ships.
Ryan issued the order to prep the cannon.
Again he peered out. The Xilozak Commander was almost upon him now. He could see Zorlog's snake eyes squinting thin with exasperated puzzlement. The others had the same look about them. Ryan quietly stood up from his cover. Behind him, the destroyer's cannon were pivoting to bear down upon the oncoming group. He stood there with his rifle pointed directly at them, waiting.
Zorlog noticed, but he did not reach for his weapon. He merely stopped to assess the situation.
"Zorlog!" Ryan yelled in Trinarieit. "Remember me, you bastard!"
Some of the officers went for their rifles, but Zorlog waved them still. He stepped closer. Ryan reciprocated, moving into a meager beam of light. He kept his rifle poised and ready.
"You are a Signite?" Zorlog growled in Trinarieit.
"Don’t recognize me?" He pulled his hair to the side, revealing an ugly scar on his forehead.
Zorlog's teeth glowed yellowed-white in the darkness, and he laughed so heartily he had to pound his chest.
"You! Yes, slave, I remember you. I should have cut off your head, but I hadn’t switched on my disrupter. I lost a few credits on a bet that you would die. But, just the same - I made a healthy profit off your sale."
He laughed again, grabbing his gut.
"What do you want, little Earthman?" he said sarcastically.
Ryan only smiled. "I want you dead."
"Zorlog killed by a slave!" He laughed even louder, straining his vocal cords in raspy growls. The others joined him, forming an ugly chorus.
"Did you enjoy your slow ride home from Signus?" Ryan asked quietly. “Must have liked facing your Emperor carrying all that shame.”
A Bellicose Dance Page 48