Chapter 15
[Def-Mobr System] - [“Needle Straights” Asteroid Fields]
[Haven Alpha]
Over the next leg of their journey, Calico spent most of her time either in the training room or the firing range, drilling herself with admirable discipline. Doc worked one-on-one with her on combat technique while in armor, and Trent took on the task of clearing her on over a dozen different small arms. While he'd reported that her skills were less than impressive, the sniper seemed relatively confident that the girl would hit what she aimed at, and that, for Nathen, was good enough for now. Nathen's goal for the first day of their journey was just to break the young speaker of that rigid infantry training she'd had drilled into her and replace it with an elite mindset as quickly as possible.
The Menturion System was, at best, a five day sprint for most fast ships. Taking into account the hostile patrols, set travel waypoints, gravitational masses and stellar conditions, the more realistic travel time for a strike force to reach this particular target in enemy territory was two weeks. Haven Alpha was making the journey in two days by taking a dangerous shortcut through what was known as the Needle Straights. The hazardous and unpredictable asteroid fields that made up the Def-Mobr System's multiple belts posed serious threats to most ships large enough to power through it. To Haven Alpha, with her advanced propulsion, navigation, and sensor systems, it was just a very convenient shortcut, although somewhat nerve-wracking for crew manning the helm.
Nathen decided it would be best to host his war council now. It gave the Alphas time to settle back into the ship as well as familiarize the new girl, while still giving them a full day to absorb and prepare for the mission. After his morning routine—which wasn't exactly morning, since when system hopping the day cycle never mattered—Nathen punched a memo into his comm unit for the team to gather in the briefing room in one hour. That gave him enough time to dig through the pile of information he had on the Menturion System one more time before presenting it to the ESCs. Updates on this system were rare since it was so far from any of the hot spots. Really the only ones left to scrap over it were the Yew Alliance and the War Hive. It was considered to be well beyond the reach and influence of any Human ship.
That was about to change.
An hour later, Nathen exited his cabin with a datapad tucked loosely under his arm. He headed off to the briefing room at light walk, taking his time and passing by the outer hull's portholes. One would never suspect by just looking at the view through the windows that Haven Alpha was actually traveling at hundreds of thousands of miles per hour. The stars and nebulous golden gases that made up the backdrop starscape of the Def-Mobr System remained the same. He didn't see any comets, but then again Haven Alpha was probably intentionally steering well clear of any potential collisions, so it was unlikely he'd see any of the infamous projectiles that crisscrossed the system.
Nathen reached the briefing room and touched the entry pad with his hand, sliding the door back. He entered the room and slowly descended the stairs to the central circular table, where the rest of the team was waiting. The door sealed behind Nathen as he glanced about to see who was in attendance. The seven other Alphas were all gathered around the circular war table, waiting patiently for their commander. On his left, settled in the next tier of seats reserved for non-ESCs, Hybrid pilots Red and Nikolai mingled with their counterparts from the other dropship, Rathe and Leonard. The four pilots were all in casual wear, sleeves rolled up and clean shaven for the mission briefing. The only other non-commando present was Captain Bryor.
The captain was at the other side of the room on the second tier of seats, seated with one leg crossed casually over the other and operating a datatech computer which was wirelessly linked with Haven's bridge computers. Unlike the pilots, the captain was still in his clean-pressed captain's uniform, standing out in the dim room with his bright black and red attire. Nathen walked around the table to his chair and took a moment to look over the others before sitting down.
The faces at the table held a wide range of expressions, ranging from boredom to amusement to cynical defiance. But almost every one shared the same eager vibe to get back into the fight. Calico was a little different. She looked tired and run down, but still awake and alert. Nathen could tell just by the way that she was sitting that she was still sporting some bruises from the severe pummeling he'd given her the day before. Yet judging from the cringing grin on her face, she wasn't sorry to be there.
“Alright, Alphas,” Nathen said, bringing all attention onto himself. Nathen gave a nod to the pilots. “Griffins.” A glance at Gordon. “Captain.”
Respectfully, the other members of Team Alpha rose, standing with their commander as he flipped open the console in front of his chair and powered on the table display. After a second, Nathen waved to the team.
“Have a seat,” Nathen said, and the others sat. The commander straightened up, letting the war table display warm up, and fixed the room with a steady gaze.
“As you know, it has been eight months since the Elite Stellar Commandos last mission.”
Nathen leaned down and touched the surface of his console, and the surface of the round war table glimmered to life. In its center was an image of a planet; a planet the Alphas were familiar with, but few other Humans were.
“Operation Backhand,” Nathen said, out loud, “Was our counterattack in response to the decimation of our shipyards and naval bases. The Yew dropped the gauntlet at Navpoint Vantage. We took up that gauntlet... at Zoll.”
Everyone grimaced. Calico looked stunned.
“The... Yew Throne World?” she asked, needing clarification.
Nathen nodded, going on.
“Operation Backhand had one objective. A...” Nathen looked up and glanced around the room, knowingly, at the others. “...special objective. One purpose in the heart of the Yew Alliance. It was an objective that Team Alpha failed to fully achieve.”
Nathen straightened up. “But we sent them a message. That there is no place we will not dare go. No insult we will ignore. No challenge left unaccepted. Operation Backhand failed its objective, but it succeeded in its mission. We drew blood where no one thought we could.”
No one said anything. Nathen saw the Captain lean over in his chair and rest his head on his hand. Nathen let his eyes probe across the man for a moment, then continued.
“In the eight months since our thought-to-be impossible attack on the Yew Throne World, there have been a total of zero attacks on Human resources. There are no facts to bear out why this is. But if Operation Backhand didn't make them think twice about attacking, I don't know what will. Our forces have been on standby, waiting for the next Yew strike. As of yesterday, we are no longer waiting for that strike.”
Nathen hit another switch, and the table shimmered to show the symbol of the Elite Stellar Commandos. A sword, banded by a spiked sun with eight points, each point colored after the schemes of Humanity’s most worthy warriors and their armor.
“Alphas,” Nathen said. “Humanity is going to war. And we are going to lead the way.”
The Alphas said nothing. For the most part, they knew this was coming. After eight months of down time and training, they were all ready to go.
Nathen waved his hand across the tabletop, and the sword and sun of the ESCs disappeared. The commander pulled his datapad out from under his arm, activated it, and aligned it into the slot on the table edge. The war table drew in the datapad and absorbed the mission data that Nathen had compiled.
“At this moment, all our forces are mobilizing. Ships are being outfitted, armies are being trained and armed, and our top brass are pulling every last trick to gain an edge in this coming struggle. If the Yew won't come to us, we're going to them. And we're going full guns.”
Nathen let the datapad load its data into the war table, frowning.
“However,” he said, reluctantly, “The direction the URH is about to take has never been attempted on this scale. The Solar War is a
massive conflict. The Human Race may be no stranger to the concept of war, but there has never been a moment in history like this. Intense preparation is needed. And that takes time.”
The statement hung in the air for several seconds before someone had the courage to actually ask it.
“...How long will it take to fully mobilize?” asked Calico hesitantly.
Nathen touched a switch on his console, and complex projections cascaded onto the flat tabletop. He summarized it in one simple statement.
“Five months” he said.
The room was silent. From the upper tier of seats, Gordon Bryor gave a little shrug of his shoulders.
“I honestly expected worse,” he said, surprised but thoughtful. “I projected years before we could consider this course of action.”
“Five months is too long,” Helen said, distraught at the thought of waiting that much longer.
“No.” Trenton Baxter leaned forward in his seat, intensely. “It’s too short. There's no way we can sustain a war against those enemies without a minimum of another year of prep time. It doesn't add up. Our supply lines alone would….”
“They say it can't be done,” Nathen said, cutting in sharply. “Everyone says five months is impossible.” Nathen crossed his arms. “And you know what? They're right. There's no way we'll go to war in five months. Because when we start to mobilize, the Yew Alliance is going to pounce on us. They'll keep attacking our forces piece-meal before we can consolidate, and we'll go back on the defensive, and the waiting will start all over. They can afford to wait. We can't.”
“Why not?” asked Kyler, confused. “Not thet I'm not eagah, but wat's the rush?”
“Because the Yew know they can afford to stall while the War Hive eats up the rest of galactic civilization. Reports of the Sktish frontlines against the Hive are grim. They're not going to hold out for another year. If we don't engage the Alliance while the Sktish are still standing, then the Insectoids will be beating down Humanity's door next, and then all the Yew will have to do is sit back and enjoy the show. Five months, or else.”
“But this is a no-win plan,” Phillip said with a sigh. “All it’s going to take is one more sneak attack like Navpoint to put us down for the count. The only way we'll mobilize is if they leave us alone. And we know that's not going to happen.”
“Of course not,” said Nathen. “We insulted their pride. That was strike one. We defiled their Throne World. That was strike two. They've been biding their time, just like we have. As soon as we flinch, they'll strike. So… We strike them first.”
“Operation Backhand showed that a single vessel and one team of commandos can stall a war. Now we're going to show them that we can make war. With one blow and thousands of ships, the Yew Alliance crippled our ability to make war for more than eight months. The ESCs are going to cripple them for five.”
Jonathan looked up from his console, incredulously. “How? You expect us to swim out there and plant bombs on every single ship they have?”
“Harper's got a point,” Doc said with a shrug. “If the Yew have been biding their time for eight months, waiting to strike us when our guard is down, then an attack by us, or by Haven Alpha, is not going to distract them from butchering our fleet.”
“Sadly I must agree.” Gordon said, from his chair. “I don't necessarily believe in miracles, but I do think we would need them on occasion. Haven Alpha cannot fight a fleet on her own.”
Nathen smiled. “She won't have to.” The commander looked up at the planetary hologram. “There's more than one way to skin a Vorch.”
“I like your tone,” Jonathan said, leaning back. “By all means. Amaze me.”
Nathen touched his console and powered up the holographic display. The circular surface of the war table flashed, and suddenly a full-color hologram of a planet, complete with moons, rotated in the air for all to see. Everyone examined the hologram, pulling out their own consoles to read the data on what they were seeing. While they did, Nathen explained.
“This is Cravac,” he said. With a sweep of his hand, the image of the planet retreated and the image of its large moon inflated. “This is its moon, Cravac-B. Cravac either way, I don't care. Planetoid-class satellite. It has breathable air, mostly, but the war caused the settlers to cease the terra-forming process halfway through, and it remains unsettled. No natives to speak of.” Nathen lifted a finger and jabbed it at the image. “This is where we strike.”
Helen, already analyzing what she saw, posed the first question. “If this planet is so far from our systems why are we even bothering to strike it?”
Nathen looked over at Helen. “The Yew own the lease on this little piece of real estate. It’s not in their territories, not really. But it’s close. Consider it the welcome mat outside their door. They can’t use it as an effective system for offense, but they can’t afford to let anyone else take it, either.”
Nathen leaned in and rested his elbows on the tabletop.
“Right now I can guarantee you that the Yew are preparing an assault fleet to batter Humanity. To strike their attack force head on would be foolhardy. But if they were attacked here, they are weak. They are being forced to hold a system that is essentially useless to them. Why? Because the War Hive is trying to establish a base here. If the Yew hold the system, and this moon, they merely keep it from the War Hive; it’s useless to them otherwise. But if the Insectoids gain hold of it, then the Yew Alliance's defense grid becomes more complicated.”
“And they'll be forced to retake it,” Rathe said, from the back. “They'll need to recall forces to protect themselves when they otherwise would have spent it on us.”
“I love it,” Helen said with a wicked smile. “The Yew are always letting the War Hive soften up their targets for them. It'll be sweet irony to give them a taste of their own medicine.”
“That it will,” Nathen said. “So here's the summary. We slip in under the Alliance's radar, take out their most critical hold point against the War Hive, and then bug out and let our good friends the Insectoids take it from there.”
“Hopefully distracting the Alliance from us and buying our admirals time,” finished Gordon with a nod of approval. “Commander Knight, I approve. How shall we proceed?”
Nathen rotated the hologram of the moon around. “Well, our data is old. So the first thing we'll need to do is perform a thorough surface scan and see just where they are, and where is best to strike. Aside from that, all we need to do is figure out our best insertion point, and Griffin One and Two will take us in.”
There was a high five exchange between the pilots in their seats.
“It’s pretty bleak-looking,” Calico said, frowning at the hologram. “I don't see much green. Will we be able to breath?”
“The moon has what we call an alternating atmospheric cycle,” Gordon said, speaking as if this was common knowledge. “The technical term is a Natural LUNG cycle. Since the terraforming was not completed, there’s an imbalance of atmospheric gasses, with different properties and densities, like tides. The alternating cold air of the night cycle and the warm air of the day cycle brings about different levels of breathable air. When it’s not in the shadow of its host planet it gets a greenhouse effect which draws certain gasses out of the geysers and makes it less hostile for oxygen breathers. At night, you get a thinner, cooler mixture of different atmospheric gasses. The rotation of “tidal atmospheres” is what creates the effect, altering ground conditions almost like seasonal shifts.”
Calico was pretty sharp—a multi-lingual who was barely out of her teens has to be—but this was still out of her area of expertise. She didn't look as though she followed. Nathen leaned on the table top and explained.
“That basically means we'll have to operate in broad daylight. Hybrid pilots will remain in vacuum seal, and we'll have to take precautions ourselves in case there's not enough air for the Genesis suits to filter.”
“But how exactly can either side maintain permanent bases when every nigh
t the atmosphere changes?”
“Well,” Doc said, looking over at Calico. “Mostly they just breathe it.”
“This might help explain it.” Nathen found the image he wanted and sent it to the projector. The war table lit up with a full-fledged six foot bipedal that every veteran Alpha was familiar with. The leathery, red-skinned and vaguely humanoid alien stood arrogantly in the ESC's war room, like a taunting wraith. Nathen leaned back in his chair and reached up to support the back of his neck in his palm as he gestured with his other hand.
“Our first problem,” Nathen said, indicating the image of the fully armored shock trooper. “Vorch. Not only considered by many to be the best warriors in the known galaxy, but their biology is difficult to penetrate.”
“Hard to freeze 'em, hard to burn 'em,” Kyler added. “Bullets seem to go right through 'em. End, to add to thet, they can breathe en atmospheres thet we imagine would kill a skunk.”
“We can guarantee that they'll be there,” Helen said. “They'll breath stuff like carbon dioxide with no problem. A Natural LUNG planet would be no considerable threat or difficulty to them.”
“Surely they won't be that immune to the dangers,” Calico said skeptically.
Jonathan eyed Calico humorlessly. “I take it you've never heard of the Eclipse warriors.”
Calico started to open her mouth, but Nathen cut off the discussion.
“Let's refocus. These Vorch are going to be the most comfortable and the most capable in this shifting atmospheric environment. As far as I'm concerned, they are top threat.”
Nathen collapsed the hologram, and a new one immediately popped up.
“Stelkans,” he said, eyeing the five-foot hologram of the Yew's designated leaders. Two reverse-jointed legs perched on lanky avian feet, holding up a deceitfully frail-looking body with two skinny arms. The leathery, sometimes scaly look of the alien's skin stretched out into two foldable bats wings on another pair of limbs coming out of its back. The slanted, bird-like eyes glared out from under the cover of its bat-like wings.
Prime Alpha (Planetary Powers Book 1) Page 18