A Bellicose Dance

by Patrick M J Lozon

  Ryan smiled, "Well, that poses a problem I guess." He sat back in his chair and cradled the warm mug of tea.

  "That's not all," Lortay continued. "I know your Xeronian friends are full up as well, even those damn hairy Brogs are at capacity, and they keep it a nice warm -10 degrees at their base."

  "Then we need to start moving them planet-side, whether they want to or not."

  "That's a fine thing to say, but I can't convince them they'd be better off. Signus is a mess. Their infrastructure is decimated. They are rebuilding slowly but people are starving down there. And don’t forget our POW camps – we are dealing with a lot of unrest when POW’s are eating better than the citizens."

  "Send detachments to get them organized. Get the systems straightened around."

  "Already being done, but these things take time and resources. Keep in mind that every planet we’ve reclaimed is in the same sad shape. The Showmish, the Nuboks, everybody! That Xi-scum took everything, and what they couldn't take, they destroyed. When we moved back in, we made the further mistake of destroying the Xi-bases. Unfortunately for us, anything that was left that worked was in those bases. Those damn creatures are like pack rats stealing anything of use or value."

  "And how are your supplies?"

  "As of right now, we are almost depleted. We have a convoy due to arrive anytime now, secured from our last raid – but that's just the point - we cannot handle this many people. Our infrastructure is starting to fail, sewage reclamation systems are backing up, air management systems breaking down, water pumps failing."

  "Then we have no choice, Lortay. We have to move them out."

  Lortay hid his face in his hands, wiping away his tiredness.

  "Commander, we can't. Those people feel safe here. In the event of a retaliatory attack, we can at least protect them here. If we move them planet-side, we simply can't guarantee their safety, besides the fact we are leaving them to fend for themselves. Add to the fact we are working solid shifts refitting our seized warships, and our people are exhausted. This is difficult at best. Mark my words, however, we are still taking the offensive, despite this situation.”

  “I see that, General.”

  “To top it off, we just can’t seem to get rid of this Xi-scum. There are still parties of them roaming on every liberated planet. When we ship populations planet-side, we have to arm them, and we can't spare the weapons."

  "What do you want me to do then?"

  "I just received the latest numbers. Right now, I’ve two fleets on their way back with no way to handle the incoming. The 20 ships are crammed full, with a conservative estimate of at least a thousand heads apiece."

  Ryan let out a low whistle. "Type-G slavers are the only ships big enough to handle that many. I noticed you have a couple being refitted in port."

  "Neither of them are ready yet. They can fly, but they need more work. You can't have people living in those tanks when you're tearing apart the hull. It's a damned hazard. That'll be just what we need, a thousand dead due to some freak accident.”

  “The inbound ships - you should know - are full of your kind... Earthmen."

  Ryan took a gulp of the tea, considering the news. The type-G class are official Xi-Empire slavers. This means they’ve raided Earth. Why didn’t he have intelligence on this?

  "That’s not everything. We lost one during the attack. I'm sorry."

  “You saved who you could,” Ryan replied somberly.

  We were all victims somehow, alive and dead. He had to deal with the living.

  Aviore reached over and touched his leg. He returned a half-smile.

  “Looks like we have only one option left to us, General. I'm going to need about five hundred men. All trained combatants, armed to the teeth. About half of them should be technically proficient enough to repair ships’ systems."

  "That's almost everybody I have that can keep this base running."

  Ryan stood up. "If you want me to fix your problem you'll need to spare your personnel. Maybe we can get away with four hundred, then. Have the ships manned and ready within two hours."

  "Why? What do you intend to do?"

  "Let's just say I believe I can cure this problem of ours once and for all. But I need the troops."

  "How long will I have to wait for this cure?"

  "I don't know for sure. We'll move as quickly as possible. It will probably take a few weeks. If we're successful, we'll be able to relieve the strain on all three bases."

  "Just keep in mind, Commander, we're running out of time here."

  Ryan got up and moved to the door, Aviore followed. Lortay called after him. "Commander, I forgot to mention, the incoming fleet should be here soon. You'll get to meet a couple of my new officers."

  "Good. I'm looking forward to meeting them." Ryan opened the door and hesitated. "Do they have any experience in high stress, no-win situations?"

  Lortay's eyebrows creased into one. "You're making me feel better about this secret mission by the minute. I guess Ranton would be your man."

  "Then we’ll wait for the convoy to arrive. Have your best officers, including this Ranton, report to me as soon as they set down. I'll be over with Tmaurau."

  "Commander, do you know where he is?"

  "A guide would help."

  "I'll get you one," he offered, pushing a button on his desk console.

  Aviore spoke up. "If you don't mind, Ryan, I want to go through the registration roster, to see if anyone I know is here."

  “I'll help you out," Lortay offered. “As things are in a bit of a disarray.”

  “Thanks.”

  The guide knocked, opening the door to let in a noisy roar. Ryan set down his mug, gave Aviore a gentle kiss, and disappeared into the crowd. The guide's name was Bartaliue. He was a talkative one. Ryan kept him tuned out, for the most part, inspecting the base as they walked.

  "Here we are, Tmaurau should be working on this vessel."

  They were in the main repair bay. Repair teams were hustling around in a frenzy. In the distance, a massive Xi-destroyer was being dismantled. Missing hull plating exposed the ship’s internals. Cable and conduit hung down in tangled stands.

  Before him, perched on the very top of a short ladder, was his old friend. He was bending over, half his body immersed in an open cavity of a Nubok reconnaissance ship. It was, compared to the others, tiny.

  "Tmaurau!" he called out.

  The startled Xeronian bumped his head as he attempted to straighten up. "Ryan!" he exclaimed, rubbing his bulging bald noggin. "Good to see a familiar face."

  "How are things?"

  "If I were to pick a word, I would say crowded," he replied. "You?"

  "Too many details. I'm buried in details."

  "You will be glad to know that we are making significant progress. Most of the Signite ships have been outfitted and are out in active service."

  "Yes. I have a few of them in my own fleet. They seem to hold up well."

  "A few insignificant design problems... they are not of the same caliber as the Dancing Queen, but they are more than a match for the Xi-Empire destroyers. I have to congratulate you. Your modifications to the shield design were quite impressive. I have implemented your ideas into other ships and made an improvement to your design as well. A double-phased transducer allows the shield generation field to change modes. It reduces..."

  Ryan interrupted him. "Already did it. I don't know why I didn't think of it when I installed it."

  "Oh, very good. You are beginning to impress me, man-from-Earth."

  Ryan chuckled. "You are the master shipbuilder here. I'm just the student."

  "It is the teacher's purpose to make the student excel beyond his own abilities."

  "I’ll do my best. What are you working on?"

  "A small problem. I was just finishing up."

  Ryan gave the ship a closer inspection. "The latest Xeronian achievement," he commented.

  "Not really," returned Tmaurau. "Old ideas combined in a new way.
No, the real achievement is when we can take one of those," he pointed to the destroyer in the distance, "and make it invisible to the tracers."

  "I'm sure you will find out how to do that one day. How's the team keeping up with the repairs?"

  "The Signite technicians are very proficient but they are in short supply. We have drafted the help of other technicians from those rescued. We are attempting to employ as many individuals as possible, but this work is specialized. We have a backlog of more than twenty ships, varying in repair requirements. More vessels arrive every day. We put them in orbit around this system’s outermost planet and taxi them in when they are ready for refit. What we need to do is avoid inflicting so much damage to them in the process of capturing them."

  "That may be impossible, my friend, unless we switch to biological weaponry.”

  “That remains a possibility. The thoughts of delivering a payload that is able to breach the hull, and inject into the interior…”

  “Is a tall order even with your knowledge and skills. I assume you’ll continue to work on this. Tell me, do you know how the Brog base is doing?"

  "I have been there. Their base is quite small, approximately 24 useable bays. I have reviewed their native ship designs and have provided them with my recommendations. Their ships require extensive overhauls. A few Xeronians from my team are there presently, aiding in the reconstruction efforts. The Brogs are competent and their equipment is adequate to perform the work."

  Ryan was about to tell Tmaurau about the decision he had made when a small creature walked, or scurried, up to them. It stood barely one meter tall and looked like a mushroom with eight small spindly stems.

  "Bend down please, Ryan," asked Tmaurau.

  Ryan got to his knees. He could see there were three eyes located underneath the dome-shaped head. They were glowing a bright green. He could not see a mouth. Strangely, he picked up a slight scent of vanilla emanating from the small creature.

  So, this is a Nubok.

  Gem informed him via the vaskpar, "He is Nargum of Fragoon. According to the registry, he is capable of speaking the Trinarieit language."

  "Hello, Nargum," Ryan stated in Trinarieit.

  Nargum replied with a surprising base-filled voice. "Hello, Commander. I am honored to meet you.”

  "This is your ship?"

  "I am the Captain. There are two in my crew. Our next assignment will bring us enroute to Xilo. It is a reconnaissance trip requested by the Xeronian master, Tsaurau."

  "Yes, I know him," Ryan smiled and glanced up. Tmaurau smiled slightly, matching the Earth custom with an exact finesse.

  "Commander, Master Tsaurau has told me that you have put him in charge of a special project - to study the conflicts occurring in the Xi-Empire civil war."

  "I need him to give me some insight on the commander of this Purist fleet, whoever he is. From what I’ve observed, he is very dangerous."

  "I know the leader of the Purist fleet," announced the tiny Nubok. "He is assigned the title of Zorlog, of Xilozak descent."

  Ryan’s mouth went dry. "What? Are you sure about this?"

  "Very sure. We have intercepted multiple communications with reference to this stated individual."

  Ryan felt irritated and angry. "So I guess he's not dead, then. Figures I missed the sonofabitch. Seems that lizard has a horseshoe up his ass."

  The Nubok blinked, but avoided further comment, not recognizing his Earth-English response.

  Ryan remembered what he originally wanted to tell Tmaurau. "We're going back to the Maskaffa to retrieve the mothership."

  Tmaurau's eyes squinted. Blue veins popped in his temples. The Xeronian did not like the news. "You must be very, very careful my friend. There are many legends about that fleet, and about that very ship. Tseman is never wrong."

  "Let's hope she's wrong about this, we don't have a choice. I don’t intend to take just the one ship. I want to take them all. Can you retrofit cores if we bring these hulks back?”

  “Such precision work needs to be done on Xeronia, but yes, it can be done. I have a few cores fabricated already.”

  “Good. Contact Xeronia and let them know that we’ll need more.”

  Ryan noticed a familiar face approaching, Bartaliue's shoulders bounced from side to side as he walked. The carefree teenager arrived slightly out of breath. "Commander, General Lortay wants to inform you that the convoy has arrived. The officers are on their way in as we speak."

  Ryan said his goodbyes and headed back.

  * * *

  "Captain Brush, Captain Ranton." They shook hands firmly. "Good to see you made it back in one piece," stated Ryan. "A fine collection of ships you've pulled in."

  "Yes, but we lost one," said Brush somberly.

  "I understand you've requested my company, Sir," Ranton said.

  "I've got a job for you. I expect it could be very dangerous."

  "Could be? That's the most promising news I've heard yet," he half-laughed.

  Ryan smiled at the quick response. He liked this fellow.

  "General Lortay has recommended you. We are going on a mission to retrieve a number of ancient war vessels, and a very special ship – of significant dimensions. I expect that most of these vessels are still functional, which includes this large transport. This particular vessel’s systems, according to my data, has everything we need to support our growing population."

  "Where the hell did you find such a gold mine!" exclaimed Lortay, excitement in his voice.

  "In a place called the Maskaffa Spider – a very secure area with only one way in and out. This location would be ideal to build a base."

  "Sounds like this will really make a difference," commented Brush.

  "Yes, that’s the point. But it won’t be easy. I’m sure the ship's systems will require repair, so we'll need a large number of men to get them up and running, considering the size of the vessel."

  "So why the fighting men?" asked Lortay, somewhat suspiciously.

  "The ship may be infected with an alien life-form. If it is, it will have to be exterminated."

  "And you need 400 troopers to do it?" Lortay countered.

  "The ship is very large. We need to scour through her quickly," returned Ryan. "I expect we’ll need about four to six ships, whatever’s needed.”

  “Once we’ve secured the mothership there are a number of other vessels surrounding it. We may need to tow some of them. We're leaving in one hour. Ranton, you’re my first, make sure the ships are ready to go."

  Each of the officers gave him a Signite salute by hitting their left hand with a closed fist. He returned the motion and quickly left, eager to find Aviore. Gem helped him locate her through the maze of rooms and corridors and bodies. She was in the medical center, going through the roster on a portable terminal.

  "Need help?" he offered.

  She looked at him sadly. "I thought I could find my mother."

  He put his arm around her. "Did you try the cross-references, search by description?"

  "No. I was just about to go through it, though."

  "Better yet, why don't we just ask Gem?"

  He relayed the request. Gem was quick to respond. She liked helping out with things like this.

  "Downloading the information now," reported Gem. "The data transfer will take a few moments, as the Signite system is archaic. Please relate all information pertaining to your genetic mother, Aviore."

  She did, distinguishing as much information as she could remember. A few moments passed by as Gem searched the database.

  "I'm sorry. No individual was found matching all the required physical features, skills, name, or personal history."

  Aviore looked down sadly.

  "We'll find her," encouraged Ryan, "it will just take some time."

  She moved into his arms quietly.

  "We're going to have to leave," he announced.

  She looked up at him. "Where are we going now?"

  "To the Maskaffa Spider."

  Her
eyes widened. "Tsaurau told me about that thing on the mothership! You're not going to board it are you?"

  "We are going to do more than board it. We are going to fly it out of there. Besides, that creature is long dead. It has been for a thousand years."

  "Don't you go aboard, Ryan... Please. I'll tell your generals. They won't let you go as soon as they find out. You're too valuable to them."

  Ryan looked deep into her eyes. There was real fear there. "What are you afraid of, a bunch of stories?"

  "I just don't want to lose you. If you go, I go."

  "Alright. I won't board until we've secured it, OK?"

  The look in her eyes didn't subside.

  "I don't want you to die."

  "I'm not going to die," he said, openly irritated. He glanced down at his chronometer. "We have to get going."

  "Just remember if you go in, then I go in."

  * * *

  The ships were outfitted and ready within the hour. They left for the Maskaffa Spider on schedule with the Dancing Queen in the lead. The trip took a week at the fleet’s maximum acceleration – which was much slower than the Dancing Queen’s capability. It gave Ryan time enough to brief the crew for their mission. He reviewed the investigation file compiled by the Xeronians on the War Spritzer with the other captains and officers over a vid-com session.

  "As you can see, these bulkhead hatches were literally ripped apart. The statistics are at the end of the report, but it would take roughly 150 GPa to sheer the alloy that the hatches were made of."

  "We'll just blast it before it reaches us," said Ranton.

  "The speed of this thing is supposed to be incredible. It would appear as a blur to the human eyes. Make no mistake. This thing kills. If we are unlucky enough to find one, it will probably take out half your men before you aim that blaster."

  "I get the picture. Everyone will be on their toes." Ranton’s tone was more skeptical than earnest.

  Ryan decided it was best to ignore it. "As soon as we've reached our destination, I'll be coming over to McClary's ship. That will be the command center and I will coordinate everything from there.

  “This thing could be resident in any of these vessels. I want every last one inspected, cleared, and either made operational or connected up with grav lines for a tow back. We'll finalize the plans to get the mothership operational after we inspect it fully. I want all of you to review everything I've downloaded to you, if anyone has any other ideas, make note of them, and we'll take it up at our planning meeting. Dancing Queen, out."