Opening Moves

by James Traynor

  “I understand the Ashani have already attacked the Érenni...?”

  “Yes, and the latest reports say they are also fighting the Tuathaan Clanholds,” the Emperor pointed at the discarded piece of parchment.

  “A war on two fronts, your majesty? Not the wisest move, as I understand it.”

  “Usually, I would agree with you. One doesn't have to be a strategist to see the clear dangers of such a venture. However, contrary to popular wisdom, the Dominion seems to be making progress. They've struck deep in the Republics' territory and have already taken out one of their oldest colonies,” Áedh stated. “Examine their battles. I'm afraid you will find they are a far more dangerous enemy than the Ukhuri Regime. If we are weakened by an Ukhuri incursion and further divided by arguments and bickering over blame and spoils, I fear afterwards we will be a ripe target for the Ashani. We just might be the galaxy's biggest prize.”

  Teutori hadn't considered that before, believing in the perceived invincibility of the Rasenni Imperial Navy. No matter what its actual state of combat readiness was, quantity had a quality of its own. And the Dominion was a small nation with a population barely a tenth of the Empire's. No, of all the races in the galaxy he had felt most threatened by the Ukhuri. The unruly lizards were the object of fear mothers used to frighten their children into behaving. But the Emperor now seemed to think that maybe the real threat was actually not the Ukhuri, but the Ashani. Teutori wasn't sure if he wanted to agree with that assessment. Whatever the Dominion's actions, the Ashani had so far been more than content to live in their own little corner of space.

  “We know the Ukhuri and the Ashani have a treaty, though the specifics elude our spies,” Áedh explained, his political mind working through the options. “If they are working together it's only natural to assume they each want something from the other. They will try to play the other faction, try to turn their policies to suit their own long term goals, and I have a feeling that both those factions want to do so at our expense. And this doesn't even take the other great unknown factor into account,” he walked over to a wall as white as snow on which a thousand colorful stones formed a map of inhabited space. He pointed up, towards the galactic core.

  Teutori frowned. “The humans? Your majesty, they are splintered, a lot more so than we during our bleakest days. None of their 'great powers' controls more than half a dozen colonies worth the name. More so, we have been on cordial terms with them since the early days of contact.”

  “All true, old friend. But states don't have friends –- they've got interests. Yes, on their own they don't look like much. But what if that was to change due to some factor we cannot predict? Already, taken together, they would control as many settled systems as the Tuathaan Clanholds, or the Ukhuri Regime. And how many independent colonies of them are out there where all those who want to start a new life on their own terms went? Two dozen? Three dozen? Humanity united would present a power second only to the Empire itself.”

  “So we must plan for the worst?”

  Áedh smiled thinly. “Always. Our aim should be to avoid a war at all costs until we strengthen ourselves. My goal as Emperor is to unite our people once more, not for conquest or recapturing the past, but in the aim of creating a new Rasenni Empire, one which seeks to forge a better and peaceful future and maintain a very strong defense only as a deterrent. In that I fear the Ukhuri may be a great trial for us, but at this hour it is the Ashani we should fear.”

  “Our commanders do not think they will meet much more success, your majesty. Certainly not if they press on against the whole Pact,” Teutori mentioned.

  “Perhaps so, but our spies have yet to determine the actual strength of their fleets. And should the Pact be conquered they will have a resource base to rival us, and a battle hardened and unified fleet which makes our navy look like a local militia fleet. Throw in the Ukhuri and we'll be facing a bloodbath we would find hard to stop. That is where I predict this war going, and we must be ready for it,” Áedh dismissed him with a wave.

  Teutori bowed, head spinning with new and unwanted thoughts. They were definitely living in interesting times. He hoped Áedh had a damn good plan.

  Akvô, Homeworld of the Érenni Republics.

  Gwythyr narrowed his eyes and sniffed the uncomfortably humid air in the filigree chambers he found himself in. He was an elder of one of the largest and most powerful Tuathaan clans, an esteemed war leader and politician. Too esteemed and successful, some must have thought, else he would have led a fleet and not served as an envoy. Intrigues and politics between the clanholds were full of backstabbing shenanigans, and quite literally so. Questions of personal and clan honor were as often handled in duels as they were brought before arbitral tribunals. Maybe when all this here had died down a bit he would call in a few favors and find out who had had him sidelined into a position of a glorified messenger boy. And if he did... Well, despite his age, Gwythyr was still pretty good with a blade...

  He gave an inaudible snort. The heavy build of his face and his black facial tattoos precluded most subtle expressions of regret or sympathy, especially if they were meant to be conveyed to aliens. Luckily, as a Tuathaan he had not had to learn to say things outright and avoided all that needless small talk. But that did not mean he was callous, far from it. In fact, at this moment he was feeling great sympathy for the Érenni and really didn't want to deliver the news he bore. Unfortunately, they had a right to know what he had to say.

  He stood before the Honored Matron Natar of the Érenni, the closest position of a supreme leader and mother figure for that species. With her were the main advisers to the Republican governments and Ambassador Mairwen, all of whom were waiting anxiously for his message.

  “It is my duty to inform you that no Tuathaan ships can be spared to help you in the defense of this world. I am sincerely sorry."

  There was a cacophony of calls as the audience bombarded him and the Honored Matron with questions and comments, the noise slowly dying as the leader raised her hand to quell the verbal avalanche.

  “Tell me, Gwythyr: why will no ships come?” she said softly. A woman of her position didn't need to raise her voice as utter silence reigned whenever she spoke. Her words drifted clearly to the Tuathaan representative, a clear but sad sing-song. “We had a mutual agreement treaty separate from the Pact's defense clause. Isn't that right?”

  “Yes, your Highness. You are, of course, correct” Gwythyr avoided her eyes. He felt ashamed. “But, as we speak, the forces of the clanholds are locked in deadly combat with a large Ashani fleet that has attacked the Báine system. It is taking the bulk of our ships to drive them back from there.”

  “The Tuathaan are being attacked simultaneously?” Mairwen said with some surprise, shooting Gwythyr a slightly sulky glance. “It seems we underestimated their numbers.”

  “And their will to do battle,” the Matron observed. She was older than Mairwen, and taller by a good margin. A crest of reddish scales covered her head, making her an exceptional sight among the Érenni. “The rest of the Pact has refused us, offering only sympathy.” Her eyes blinked. Some hadn't offered even that much.

  “The Tuathaan still stand by their word, your Highness. We will come to your aid, but first we have to defeat the ships attacking us – and that may take time,” he shook his head. His brother was fighting in Báine, too, as were two of his nephews.

  “I believe you,” the older female nodded. “I only hope our world is still here to meet you then.” She seemed to shrink in her throne, becoming physically smaller as the realities weighed down on her. “So, we can expect no help from our neighbors, and our confidence in our defenses appears misplaced.”

  “Our planetary defenses are impenetrable,” a high-ranking officer boasted confidently.

  Gwythyr kept his disgust to himself. The woman – no, the girl – probably had never presided over more than a bloodless anti-piracy operation. Her youth was evident in her smooth skin and high voice, even to him. She obviously
was a result of cronyism and the rapid militarization the Republics had pushed during the past year. But you couldn't buy competence, and you couldn't transform a society in twelve months.

  “That's what we thought about Senfina,” the Honored Matron commented neutrally. “No, we must be fully prepared for this eventuality. We must have a plan ready if the Ashani break through,” her eyes wandered back to him, “and you, Ambassador Gwythyr, will liaise with our fleet to come up with a suitably robust contingency. I feel it will take a Tuathaan perspective to prepare us for confronting the Dominion's fleet on open ground.”

  Gwythyr bowed, hiding a smile. The request came unexpectedly, but gods, it certainly was a better way to spend his time than delivering messages! “I offer what help I can.”

  “In all our history we have never faced a threat like this,” the Érenni matriarch stated darkly. “Look at what the enemy has done at Senfina. It seems that we stand on the edge of total destruction. It might just be that the threat of extinction is merely days, even hours away. Two weeks ago I would have banished such thoughts into the realm of nightmares, into the realm of the unthinkable. But we must think it, we must examine it and we must fight to prevent it, to kill those who would kill us. We have no choice, we have nothing else to do and no one else to count on but ourselves. We stand alone, and may the Great Mother help us all in this time.”

  The Érenni bowed their heads in respect to their deity and offered a silent prayer.

  “Courage to us all,” the matriarch finished. “For the night is dark and we are alone.”

  “Sun Tzu once said that if you know your enemies and know yourself, you will not be imperiled in a hundred battles. He was right. But, just to be on the safe side, I have access to tactical nuclear warheads.”

  - Chinese Field Marshal Bao Ying, Allied Commander-in-Chief during the Khanate Wars and the first female officer ever to be decorated with the Hero's Medal with Oaken Leaves and Diamonds

  C H A P T E R 9

  Dominion 3rd Fleet

  Foldspace, Territory of the Tuathaan Clanholds

  Late July, 2797 C.E.

  Corr'tane was beaming with excitement. He stood on the edge of an event which would see all his plans put into effect, something history books would examine for millennia and the token by which he would be known throughout the centuries to come. The Dominion's offensive into the space of the Tuathaan Clanholds was close to breaking now, with the theater's main force at the Báine system – Strategos Tear'al's 12th Fleet – in the process of collapsing. Soon what was left of that formerly potent force would have to retreat back across the border. Losing the initial stages of the operations against the fearsome warriors of the Tuathaan carried with it the potential of endangering the Dominion's whole strategy by leaving the Ashani border open to counterattacks. Tuathaan raiding parties falling on the Dominion's supply lines and weaker rearguard installations were risks not to be trifled with. But Corr'tane had resolved to make sure it would not come to this. He would give the Tuathaan a lesson in total war.

  His good mood was helped by the news of his sister's survival, and although her ship was little more than a floating hulk she was unharmed and tremendously pleased with the success of the fleet. It wasn't until Corr'tane reviewed a log of the battle that he truly comprehended just how much danger Pyshana had put herself in, and that she had almost single handedly ensured victory by rallying the fleet and inspiring them to keep fighting. He had been so proud at that moment that it had eclipsed all his other concerns. Corr'tane liked to keep track of the big picture, and despite the ferocious impression the Dominion's forces had left, the losses they had suffered in doing so filled him with a nagging sense of worry. On the Érenni front he could understand, intellectually, why the losses were as grievous as they were. Fighting the peaceful Érenni was like trying to climb a wall while someone higher up poured boiling oil down on you. No matter what you did some of your men would get burned. With the Tuathaan things were different. They were fierce fighters and individually resourceful opponents, but they preferred the mobile kind of war the Ashani themselves excelled at. A competent fleet commander who had internalized the tenets of warfare and the Dominion's operational approach should have been able to defeat the Tuathaan defense at Báine. On the average, a Dominion warship had a tonnage advantage compared to its Tuathaan counterpart, an advantage which translated into the ability to deal out heavier punches and soak up more damage. The 12th Fleet, if competently led, also should have had made use of its more refined coordination and communication protocols. Fleetnet was an integral part of the Dominion's navy whereas Corr'tane knew from intelligence reports that the Clanholds had no common data-sharing and communication system, a fact owed to the copious internal conflicts between the loose confederation of extended clans. Hardly anybody was willing to let another clan into their own warships' computers. That 12th Fleet not only hadn't been able to break the resistance at Báine but was actually being driven back with heavy casualties was testament to Tear'al's misplacement as the commanding officer of that specific force and as a field officer in general.

  His joy and excitement were still with him despite the difficult task ahead. Corr'tane was under no illusions about what lay ahead. The Tuathaan were an excellent enemy: resourceful, tenacious, fearless. What kept them from greatness was the utterly fractured nature of their society and the ensuing limits placed on each individual clan. Still, if he charged into Báine...

  The Tuathaan knew there was a second Ashani fleet in the area and that Corr'tane commanded it. Accordingly they knew that 3rd Fleet would reinforce the units at Báine to help her embattled comrades, something the Clanholds' senior commanders had planned for in a display of unnerving foresight for the impulsive warriors by keeping a large strategic reserve ready to confront him when he arrived. The Tuathaan were expecting him, Tear'al was expecting him, it seemed everyone was waiting for his forces to show up for a bloody and decisive battle.

  As such, Corr'tane had chosen to do something totally unexpected and simply ignore the Báine system. He would choose his own battle, on his own terms, elsewhere.

  “We've reached the Dunnan Gal pocket, sir. No enemy vessels detected,” Captain Pryatan reported, a slender female officer with bright white hair and dark green eyes. She was among the most beautiful women Corr'tane had ever known, striking in appearance but, more importantly, also striking in intellect.

  The whirling grays and blurry fiery streaks of foldspace hadn't changed in his command chair's visual display, but without stars to orientate there was no way to know the difference without a starship's sensors.

  “Thank you, Captain.” He had no reason to doubt Pryatan's words. She was an excellent tactician and knew how to get the most out of his flagship, the dreadnought CLAWBLADE. The Dawnhunter-class dreadnought was an eleven hundred meters long mix between a bird of prey and a prairie wolf, beginning in a grizzled 'snout' bristling with plasma laser emitters and arrays of spiky targeting sensors, tachyon radar domes and anti-missile pods in each corner. Like smooth fur its beige hull covered the vulnerable interior and its crew under a thick layer of ceramics and thermo-resistant anti-laser compounds and a final skin of anti-radiation shielding. From time to time islands of antennae, sensors or laser-clusters dotted the surface in seemingly random patterns while the large mounts of the ships primary plasma laser batteries lay silent and unmoving, covering the sleek hull from every vector. The ship's stern held its massive engines unfolded into a pair of nearly four hundred meters wide 'wings', their tips housing CLAWBLADE's primary maneuvering thrusters, their base leading directly into the hangars for the ship's shuttles, dropships and Swiftpaw-class fighters. The space in between housed thirty anti-ship missile tubes on each side. It was the pinnacle of Ashani shipbuilding, and while the ship performed well, Corr'tane's first act as Strategos had been commissioning a modified version for his personal use, carrying an altered weapons' load and extensive labs and scientific facilities to allow him to continue conducting
his research over combat zones. That ship was not quite ready, but for now the CLAWBLADE proved more than sufficient.

  “Signal the fleet: battle stations!” Corr'tane purred in his calm baritone as he locked his command chair's shock frame. “Exit the fold and assume combat formations.”

  The ship's alarms wailed three times, paused, then wailed three times again, signaling every member of the crew that they were about to enter combat.

  He noted the slight vibrations as the dreadnought's power plants began to pump into her warp field generators the incredible energies necessary to return the ship to normspace. CLAWBLADE's bridge was deep within the armored hull of the ship, hidden in its center and protected by an additional layer of armor like an egg. There were no windows to the outside world, but in his mind's eye he could visualize the shroud-like grays of the fold parting as the dreadnought shimmered back into existence, showing the diamond dotted darkness of space, with the Dunnan Gal binary system somewhere in the distance. The command screens around him lit up with fresh information and shifted to active status as the warship concluded its transition and its wide arrays of LIDAR, tachyon sensors and old-fashioned radar began to search local space for threats and targets.

  Dunnan Gal's two stars were a large K3V main sequence star and a red dwarf, orbited by twelve planets and close to a hundred moons. The fourth planet, a densely populated world entirely too mountainous and humid for Corr'tane's taste, was the seat of one of the Tuathaan's oldest and most respected clans. Even the system's name spoke of it: Dunnan Gal, the homestead of Dunnan. And that, he thought, was the whole point of the matter. Though he did find it rather dull that the planet had the same name as the system itself. Well, creativity had never been a trait he would have ascribed to the Tuathaan in the first place...