by Dalo Lorn
******
“Captain, we’re receiving a transmission from the Tarhedia,” the communications officer said.
“Put it through,” Poteran ordered. The crystals in front of him reformed into a screen and displayed the Tarhedia’s auxiliary control room; there was nobody inside but a distressed Hatos, but it was clear from the background noise that somebody was trying to force their way in.
“The Tarhedia has been lost - send your fastest ship to these coordinates, retransmit the data I’m transmitting so that--” The door was breached and the first shot fired destroyed the console; the message ended.
“Did we get the data?”
“Yes, sir - based on the structure of the files, I’d say it was research data, ship’s logs and a short message, but it’s all in Tarhedian,” the science officer reported. “The coordinates point to a star system outside known space; it could be anything, but if the hyperdrive calibration data’s right...”
“Perhaps it’s a Tarhedian settlement?” one of the other officers proposed.
“Whatever it is, Hatos seemed to think getting the message there will help somehow. What’s our fastest ship, and how soon can it get there?”
“The Unieais, sir - its hyperdrive’s rated at 6.0, so it should reach the system in about two days,” the tactical officer answered.
“Transmit new orders to the Unieais. Instruct them to go to Hatos’ coordinates and provide the Tarhedians - or whoever is there - with the data we received.”
About half an hour later, Poteran’s fleet - with the exception of the Unieais, which had dropped out of hyperspace earlier to change its course - emerged from hyperspace in small groups throughout the Vaanle system. “All ships, proceed as planned,” Poteran ordered. The fleet maneuvered into position, attacking the weakly defended facilities on the outer edge of the system; the Hippasrus’ group launched a large quantity of assault shuttles while making sure it was directly between the shuttles and the turrets on the nearby shipyards.
The leading ships’ captains started reporting their progress. “Meerte Manev here; local resistance is as expected. Enemy shields down to forty percent.”
“Piluams is also encountering expected resistance levels. Shuttles en route.” Some of the more powerful groups had overpowered the defenses more rapidly than the others, and their shuttles had moved out of the relative safety of their formations to board the stations.
“Soscut reporting in - the shuttles are aboard, but we’re picking up the defense fleet - they’re in an attack formation and headed this way.”
Poteran looked at the portion of the map where the enemy reinforcements were coming from. “Soscut, Piluams, move to engage the enemy forces. Meerte Manev, move to assist them as soon as your shuttles reach their destinations.”
Concern soon became visible on the Hippasrus’ tactical officer’s face. “Captain, sensors are detecting multiple battlecruisers dropping out of hyperspace and heading towards us!” he said.
“That was fast. All ships, prepare to scatter into hyperspace as soon as your shuttles are aboard; rendezvous as planned.”
“Piluams’ shuttles returning to base. Jumping back for retrieval.”
“Soscut’s jumping to prepare for recovery operations.” All the ships in Piluams’ and Soscut’s groups entered hyperspace for a few seconds to get closer to the stations they had attacked.
“Meerte Manev holding position, shuttles are away.”
“Sir, our transports have only just boarded the station,” the tactical officer reported.
“Get us away from the station - engage the enemy battlecruisers until the shuttles are ready to depart.”
“Piluams’ shuttles are aboard. Moving to assist Hippasrus.”
“Soscut here, commencing recovery.”
“Meerte Manev reporting shuttle arrival. Jumping to engage system defense fleet.”
“Enemy ships are opening fire!” The Hippasrus shuddered moments after the tactical officer said that.
“All units, concentrate fire on the nearest battlecruiser!”
“Piluams here, merging with Hippasrus’ group.”
“Soscut’s recovery is complete, heading to assist Hippasrus.”
“Meerte Manev’s boarding parties are encountering heavy resistance.”
“Our own teams are also having difficulty securing their objectives. Should I order them to retreat?”
“No. Keep fighting - we’re still holding.”
“Shields are down to sixty percent!”
“This is Soscut, merging with Hippasrus.”
The Meerte Manev’s shuttles finally left their station’s hangars. “Meerte Manev moving to recover boarding parties.”
“Target ship’s shields are down to forty percent, ours are at thirty!”
“What about the station?”
“Still nothing, sir.”
Something had to be done quickly or the operation would be a disaster. “Soscut, Piluams, break formation, execute maneuver Poteran Delta Three.” The Hippasrus’ group turned around and headed towards the station as quickly as possible, while the Soscut and Piluams led their groups left and right, respectively - also heading towards the station, but with a more curved route. The opposing fleet moved straight for the weakened Hippasrus - the tip of the V-shaped formation this maneuver created.
“Meerte Manev here, shuttles recovered. Moving to assist.”
The hostile battlecruisers soon found themselves between the Soscut and the Piluams. “Collapse!” Poteran ordered, and the formation imploded. The only ships that didn’t turn back towards the lead enemy ship were the Hippasrus and its group, which maintained their course. To make matters worse for the Petran defenders, the Meerte Manev and its task force had finally arrived; soon, their flagship’s shields failed.
“The transports are finally launching,” the tactical officer reported.
“Excellent - have our group move to take them in. All other ships, proceed with withdrawal.” When Poteran said that, all of the ships in the other groups jumped into hyperspace as quickly as possible with no specific destination. Meanwhile, the shuttles returned to the Hippasrus’ group, which followed the example set by the others.
While all this was taking place, the Ivory Eagle silently sped through hyperspace towards the Daserus system. Fanra Kaa’nt was tinkering with some of the Tarhedian tech installed in its cargo bays, trying to discover how it worked when Zeshaira entered the one she was in. “I hope you intend to reassemble that when you finish,” the Tarhedian commander calmly said.
A startled Fanra tried to get up from under the transporter control panel - forgetting about its presence - and hit the panel with the back of her head. “You really shouldn’t sneak up on people like that,” she complained, getting up and turning towards Zeshaira. “Anyway, yeah, I’ll put it back together. At least I think I will - I’m not entirely sure how to do it. I don’t suppose you have schematics or something…?”
Zeshaira smiled. “I do not possess the schematics and I am uncertain as to whether I know how to repair it, but perhaps if we work together, we could succeed.” she proposed.
“Well, two heads are usually better than one, so… sure. My toolbox is your toolbox, I guess.”
“Or,” Lanis noted from the door, having overheard the entire conversation, “you could ask me, and I’d tell you I made sure I had schematics for every single piece of equipment we got, except for closely guarded Petran secrets.” He pressed a few buttons on his datapad’s screen and tossed it to Fanra. “Just try not to break anything,” he added as Fanra barely caught it.
“Uh, okay. By the way, when will we get to Daserus?”
“Well, with your upgrades, we’re going at a hyperspace factor of roughly 5.4, so… two hours, give or take a few minutes. At least I think so.”
‘Two hours, give or take a few minutes’ later, the Eagle emerged from hyperspace near Daserus Three. There seemed to be very little activity in the system as the ship entered a stable
orbit over the lush, fertile - and largely uninhabited - world. Its crew met in the main hold to discuss what to do next.
“How come we haven’t landed yet?” Herrun asked.
“Because we can beam down to the surface - it’s safer,” Lanis explained. “Besides, I wanted to go down there with a plan.”
“What’s there to plan? We go down, we turn a bunch of rubble upside down, we figure out what links it to the one on Cartha Three,” he answered.
“If only it were that simple… Fanra, what do you think?”
“I think I should bring an environmental suit. Who knows what kind of alien germs I could pick up down there...?” she mused absently.
“Uhh… yeah. Okay. Not exactly what I was asking about, but whatever. Zeshaira?”
“I believe Herrun should remain aboard and hide the ship somewhere. Possibly on the planet surface. Of all of us, he is the one whose skills and abilities will probably be needed the least,” the Tarhedian noted.
“No argument there,” Herrun said, “and I might be able to find something to do while I wait.”
“Right. Drones?”
“Maybe we should bring all of them,” Fanra suggested, finally paying attention, “just in case we need them.”
“Well, that’ll make us more visible, but we could use the extra help,” Lanis answered. “I think that’s everything. Anybody else got anything?” Everyone was silent. “Let’s get to work.”
Within a few minutes, Lanis, Zeshaira, Kaa’nt and all the Tarhedian drones were in a thick jungle near a river. “The dig site shouldn’t be too far from here - I think it’s upstream,” Lanis said; and he was right, as they soon reached a small clearing where a facility similar to the one on Cartha used to be. There were very few ruins left, and most of what was left was overgrown and worn out beyond any hope of usability - the only reason there was a clearing in the first place was because of the archaeological expedition which arrived there fifteen years ago in an unsuccessful attempt to determine what the location had been.
When they performed a survey of their own, they soon discovered that they would have no more luck than the expedition had. Or so it seemed. “I think I found something!” Lanis cried out as the search neared its end, calling Zeshaira and Fanra to come take a look. “Take a look at this. This pillar’s fairly unremarkable in itself,” he said once they arrived, “but the inscription on this side looks like it’s Tarhedian.”
“It is an old dialect - it was fairly common during the centuries before the Tarhedian Civil War. I do not understand what it is doing here, though,” Zeshaira said.
“Can you read it?”
“Yes,” she answered, pausing to read the text, “Yes… How could I have forgotten...?” She trailed off; it was clear from her face that she was quite surprised as she walked away, visibly disturbed by what she had read.
“What’s wrong?” Lanis asked.
“What does it say?” Fanra asked immediately after Lanis.
“An… old memory. And a painful reminder,” Zeshaira answered.
“But what does it say?” Fanra repeated.
“It roughly translates into ‘If all else has failed and all is lost, take the stranger’s key, place it in the slot behind the waterfall and say his name,’” she said agitatedly.
“What’s the ‘stranger’s key’?” Lanis and Fanra asked almost simultaneously.
“It is a device that was passed to Hatos along with some other instructions - including a recommendation that it remains with the rest of my people on our new homeworld. I do not wish to speak of it any further, but if you must know more, I suggest you ask Hatos when this is over - if he survives.” Having said that, she marched off to finish her part of the search and refused to say another word.
When they transported aboard, Zeshaira immediately retired to her cabin. “What’s with her?” Herrun asked.
Lanis shrugged. “We found a pillar with some old Tarhedian text written on one of its sides, and she just… changed,” he said.
“Something about a ‘stranger’s key’ and instructions on how to use it. Well, actually, just instructions,” Fanra explained, taking off her AEA suit. “Zeshaira says the person who gave it to the Tarhedians suggested that they keep it on their new homeworld, but she won’t tell us anything else.”
“We should probably leave her alone for now,” Lanis said.
Meanwhile, the Hippasrus emerged from hyperspace at the rendezvous coordinates. Most of the fleet had already arrived, but there were still a few ships whose location was still uncertain. “Contact the fleet,” Poteran ordered. “Request info about their newly acquired cargo and missing ships.”
After a few seconds, the communications officer started reporting: “Most of our group’s here, the signal repeater is in perfect condition, as is the rest of the stolen equipment. Piluams and Soscut are reporting the same, and the Meerte Manev hasn’t arrived yet. So far we have eleven ships unaccounted for - three in our group, one in Piluams’ group, and the remaining seven are the majority of the Manev’s group. No, wait; two more ships dropping out of hyperspace. One is from the Manev’s group, the other is with the Piluams.”
“Alright, we’ll hold position here for another thirty minutes. Hopefully the Manev’s just late.”
Unfortunately, only four more ships arrived within the thirty minutes they spent waiting at the rendezvous point. It became obvious that the Meerte Manev and four of its supporting ships had been intercepted. Several minutes later, Poteran and the captains of the Piluams and Soscut - along with their senior staff - met in the Hippasrus’ briefing room.
“Now what do we do?” the Piluams’ captain, Neel Boller, asked. Her concern - and that of the rest of the officers in the room - was palpable. “Vaanle’s signal repeaters were lightly guarded, and even that raid was dangerous.”
“Maybe we should reassess our tactics,” the somewhat older Captain Jalno Rotgen of the Soscut - an old acquaintance and friendly rival of Poteran’s - said. “We should consider helping stabilize the Terrans. Once that’s done, we would not need to raid Petran bases to get the equipment we need.”
“No,” Poteran firmly stated. “This entire operation depends on convincing enough people of the existence of the Xargan infiltration that the new government simply has to investigate it or be removed from power. If we ally ourselves with the Terrans, the prejudice caused by the Carthan Wars would dampen the effects of the broadcast, possibly to the point where we would cause a civil war rather than put pressure on the High Council.”
“Then where do we find more signal repeaters?” Rotgen demanded.
“The news network,” Boller suddenly said. “Think about it - with most of the fleet out there looking for us and guarding other potential targets, we can hit Petra. Obviously, we wouldn’t be able to take out the Council, but if we can capture and hold key structures in the Petran news network long enough to get our message out--”
“We won’t need the signal repeaters,” Poteran interrupted, finishing her sentence for her. “That’s brilliant! We may need to draw more attention or get more resources before we can attack Petra, though.”
“What about Lieproi? We could run a quick analysis of the ancient ruins there during the fight - two objectives with one strike,” Rotgen suggested.
“That sounds like a good idea. We should jump to another meeting site before the enemy arrives; once we’re there, we can prepare for the attack. Also, make sure the Ivory Eagle is informed of our plan to attack Lieproi.” Poteran decided. “We cannot discuss this plan with anyone outside this briefing room - if Jelon captures another one of our ships, we can’t afford to have any of our crew succumb to torture. Dismissed.”
As everyone left the briefing room, the Petran captain wondered for the first time if they were even remotely improving the situation.
Chapter 6
Incursion
Pain. Misery. Death. Those are some of the words that would best describe the scene Zeshaira now gazed upon. The
world around her was burning as death rained from the sky and people ran in every direction, trying uselessly to escape their fate. Above her, the stars were obscured by endless swarms of monsters, interrupted by the occasional falling debris - and suddenly, it changed. The Tarhedian did not recognize the first planet, only that it was a Terran world and had once been home to many cities, but the next one was Petra.
Everything looked the same - the bombardment, the swarm in the sky, the terror - but the world it was happening to was no longer the same. Countless Petrans died with each passing moment as the background changed again and she found herself amidst the sands of Cartha Three, in the ancient subterranean facility on that world, and countless other planets, ships and buildings, all sharing one single trait: complete annihilation.
Finally, she saw various people dying - or perhaps being transformed, she couldn’t tell - in a sort of Xargan nest: Lanis, Hatos, Fanra, Herrun, Poteran, and many more that she did not recognize. Outside, she saw the new Tarhedian colony in ruin as they took her and tried to do to her what they had done to the others as an unfamiliar deep voice spoke. “Your efforts are in vain, Tarhedian,” it confidently stated, and then she woke up.
A few minutes later, Zeshaira left her cabin, planning on going into the cockpit. To her surprise, the lights in the main hold were on; Lanis was sitting in a chair in front of a chessboard. “Rough night?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered. She didn’t trust Lanis much - not after what she read on that pillar, anyway - but there didn’t seem to be any harm in talking to him. For now. “A bad dream.”
“Everything you know and a bunch of stuff you don’t know being wiped out by the Xargans while a creepy voice’s telling you you aren’t making a difference?”
Zeshaira looked at him in surprise. “How did you know?”
“I also had it. I’d bet a lot of important people did, too. If not that, then something else.”
“Are you worried?” she asked curiously.
“Not really - odds are they’re just trying to demoralize us, make us stop trying to stop them. It’s psychological warfare.” Lanis gently knocked over most of the black figures, one by one, and started moving the white ones. “The only problem is that enough people might be convinced, especially if their fleet’s big enough to look overwhelmingly powerful.”