by Angel Bright
“Where did this overlord disappear?”
“They teleport somewhere when in danger. But ours was a little different and stayed with us with the hope that you would take us in.”
“And where is he now?”
“On Mars…or somewhere else. You met him and talked with him.”
“Me? I talked with an engineer.”
“It was him.”
I was embarrassed by my surprise. It was a new failure if this were true.
“But we tested him. We didn’t detect anything different.”
“You have tested the actual commanding engineer. The overlord wanted to see you to get an idea of who you are.”
When and how was it that he had managed to get away? It was from our base on the moon, of course. I had left him there. He must have switched identities with the real second in command.
I immediately requested a picture of the second in command from the Research Department. Shortly afterward, they brought me a clear image similar to the appearance of the first in command. I had sat down about six feet away from the real overlord! He hadn’t even dared to use an illusion with the image of engineer because I would have detected it. I had not felt his energy field either. He hadn’t needed it, yet deprived of an energy charge, he was helpless and exposed. I could have destroyed him if I had chosen to do so. He was millennia old, yet he risked his immortality for the sole purpose of proving himself. Was it ambition or showing off? He showed off too many times, and each time I received valuable information.
“He didn’t introduce himself so that we could meet properly,” I said. “No matter. We’ll meet again. What about your goal?”
“Negotiations.”
“I don’t have anything to offer you. You want your freedom? I don’t gain anything by killing you. I would have sent you alive to your planet, but I am not sure if I can do that. Besides, I don’t have time to search for its coordinates. So, it would be better for you to return to Mars to be with the rest of the citizens of your planet. You will enjoy the same accommodations as Earth’s citizens living there, and so will your fellow citizens. In time, I will send you back to your planet alive.”
“My goal is an equal alliance with you and with Earth’s citizens.”
“Negotiate with Earth’s citizens. If they ask me, I will support you. I wish you no harm.”
“We will ask for a political and military alliance with you and Earth.”
“Go ahead and ask. Negotiate. But why would you want an alliance with a weak, backward, poor stellar system? What is in it for you? I guarantee I will take you back to your stellar system alive. No need for flattering promises.”
“Because it will be too late for our civilization.”
“I can’t offer you any guarantees. Such an alliance between us may even accelerate your demise. You can see how we ourselves are in a state of war for an unknown reason and with an unknown enemy.”
“Yes, but you alone managed to defeat a very strong fleet with weapons unknown to the overlords. And they are becoming more cautious.”
“Have you waged wars with other civilizations?”
“Yes. We burned everything alive in their star systems and even in entire star sectors and waited our turn to be burned. After your losses in this stellar system, it is only a matter of time before you launch a campaign of revenge and destruction.”
“This is a very distant possibility. We would like to live in peace.”
“Peace brings weakness and corruption. We came across this everywhere we went. You are developing fast because you are under stress; you are fighting for your survival! By becoming a threat to the overlords, you inspired the worlds fallen into despair and decay. The citizens of many star systems talk about you. The Observers have surely spread the word about this defeat, too. It is the first defeat of the great Ahuras!”
“Who are those Ahuras?”
“Our race. We are specifically designed to be invincible. We have thirty-six class B star cruisers. Their wreckage filled the space of this system.”
“Well, four managed to escape. Was there a ship in the fleet by the name Fortress of Death?”
“Escape? This has never happened before. The overlords have surely killed their crew members as an example for the others. And yes, there is a destroyer by the name Fortress of Death. It is in another star system. It is a destroyer of planets. A monster! Only one has been built because it is very dangerous, and there shouldn’t be more like it.”
“I will send you to Mars now. When I am ready, I will guarantee the freedom of a planet of your choosing.”
“Give me this opportunity now. I will be very useful both to my people and to you.”
“There is nothing to risk, but I don’t know where to teleport you.”
In slow motion, the alien took out a small narrow plate, pushed one side of it, and placed it on the table.
A star-filled section of our branch of the galaxy materialized above the table. Some of these stars started glowing brighter. There were dozens of stars and a familiar constellation among them.
“Teleport me to any of the planets of these star systems. They are all ours.”
I tried hard to hide my surprise.
“No problem. One last thing: who are the Observers?”
“They are always present every time there is a battle in space. We don’t know who they are, and we don’t know their objective, but we can’t stop them. They never interfere, but we know they are always close by and observing.”
“And what would be your objectives?”
“I will rend as many planets with my—our—supporters as I can.”
“Who are you?”
“I am Yorich, the heir of the imperial family destroyed by the overlords.”
“Is that so? Now I see. Why not? Go do what you have to do. I wish you good luck, Yorich.”
“I am very much obliged. Please accept my imperial gratitude and loyalty till death.”
“Now, Yorich, Your Majesty, please do sit down in this chair, relax, and try to not think of anything. You will need a contact with me.”
He sat in the chair and relaxed under my fixed gaze. I gradually overpowered his will and imprinted the structural lines of his brain. I asked him to imagine the place where he would like to go and teleported him there.
Yorich melted before my eyes and was on his way.
20 The Frigate Fearless in a Relentless Battle around the Planet Prima Davos
The incident reminded me of something I needed to do right away because of my disillusionment with Nolen.
I had met a young man, Tim, and remembered him just in case. He had a considerably strong energy aura and, with suitable training, could become a powerful mage. But now I needed him for something else. I ordered to have him brought to the moon headquarters, where I was planning to visit in a few days.
I had ordered a small elegant frigate equipped with standard blasters and maximum-output Scorpion-3nm (new weapon model) and powered by our newest invention, the two super-reactors, Yoshikawa type, that also powered the primary afterburning thrusters, the maneuvering thrusters, and the protective shields. Even I was in awe of the successful design solutions incorporating the latest technical innovations. We adopted brilliant designs of weapons, energy sources, and navigation equipment from the wrecked warships of the invaders. I was enjoying this strong war machine of mine like a child with his new toy.
Tug spacecraft collected the wrecked star cruisers of the invaders. It wasn’t difficult to find and put together the two halves of a clear-cut spacecraft, and an army of workers were crawling on the outside of the space battleships’ bodies. I liked the idea of restoring the ships. We were destined to receive gifts at a crucial moment. We were granted a powerful, well-armed fleet.
Crew selection by mind scan and knowledge imprinting for the battleships proceeded at full speed. The crews were sent to their respective ships, the hulls were sealed, and the pressure was equalized. Nolen was completely in his element in
the flurry of construction and confidently directed the passing barges and tug craft pulling huge sections of hull to and fro.
The crystal-farming laboratory cheered me up with its first harvest. In a few weeks, we would have solid production from the mines, allowing us to forge defense barriers against enemy beam weapons in the yellow and orange spectra.
I went to the moon headquarters to enjoy my combat toy and was introduced to Tim. I explained to him I needed him as a messenger working at the headquarters of the space fleet. I tuned him in as I had tuned in Emperor Yorich. I set up our brains to be in resonance with each other so we could communicate and exchange images directly through space, just as Nolen and I did. I sent the young man to the commander of the Lunar Defense Force with an order to issue him credentials, an appropriate military rank, and a commission to send him to the Space Fleet Command Headquarters on Earth.
I then returned to my work. I had to research my ideas for trainings and testing of combat-spell compositions. This was the new direction of my efforts.
I had earned the respect of the attackers. They were about to experience real fear.
My forty-member crew was eager to show me they were ready for space travel.
I gathered them in front of the frigate so we could choose a suitable name for it. Word about the event spread quickly, and soon the huge underground hangar filled with thousands of excited Godparents. Each one of them passionately defended their proposed name, but the crew’s firm choice was Fearless. Why not? I liked this name, too. I felt as if I had always called my minifrigate Fearless.
The naming ceremony was lavishly festive and conducted in accordance with all the rules. The spaceship’s bow was decorated with a jagged shark mouth. I agreed to all of this because I didn’t want to spoil the enthusiasm, but I intended to on paint over the bow with the inconspicuous “mouse” color. Regardless, I was proud and happy.
In the evening, we gathered at the headquarters of the Moon Armed Forces to finalize the strategic locations for deployment of Scorpion-2 and Scorpion-3 kits on the lunar surface. I took the advice of experienced military officers to mount the kits on mobile platforms. The platforms were lifted with elevators from their underground bases on the moon, ready for intense fighting next to blaster attack units. They were capable of destroying the protective force fields and shields of an advancing enemy.
Using their own resources, they were going to dig tunnels to connect the central battle position to two alternative battle positions.
It made sense.
Toward the end of the meeting, I heard a faint, desperate cry for help coming from across the infinite outer space.
Kobo!
My agent Commodore Kobortaros from the planet Prima Davos—the planet of our technology ally to whom we owed so much—was in trouble. Their fleet had been destroyed, and the aggressors were burning the surface of the planet.
I jumped to my feet.
I explained to the commanders what was happening on Prima Davos and recommended high combat alert in the near-Earth space. I ordered the crew of Fearless to assemble and prepare for takeoff.
On my order, the moon-base personnel began loading sets of crystal reflectors on Fearless, which were not yet tested in polygon trials. They loaded food, water, and liquid respiration gas. We filled a specially constructed hangar with twenty-five fighters lined up like bullets in a bandolier and armed with moderate-power Scorpions and other weapons. We placed the fighter pilots in their respective cockpits. Each of the fighters had two sets of four crystal reflectors mounted on the outside of its fuselage. Upon receipt of the readiness report, I took my seat in the spaceship.
This time, we pulled the frigate out in the near space and began moving (shot?) at full speed of 47K, or 47,000 miles per second. When we reached that speed, I teleported the frigate to the vicinity of Prima Davos. A three-dimensional map of the interplanetary space appeared above the holographic plot. It was filled with red lights of different sizes. Two of them were very bright. We turned on all holographic screens for surround monitoring, assigned a sector to each of the crew members, and began a frantic competition in target detection. We were competing with an enemy in a stellar system we were entering at a tremendous speed. Each one of us was marking the zones that were in need of most immediate help. Huge areas of the planet’s surface were in flames and covered in clouds of smoke. Small combat aircraft, probably attack-fighter bombers, darted around in the dense smoke. The ongoing bombing in the planetary inferno down below incinerated large areas. A dozen heavy aircraft circled in the atmosphere. They dived to suppress the strong points of the planetary air-defense system still fighting back.
It was a display of overpowering audacity.
I ordered my fighters to regroup in fours. They had specific targets on their screens. To the left of our fighters, however, we witnessed the most frightening sight. A number of transport ships were being launched in space, one after the other, in a desperate and doomed attempt to save the lives of the planet’s most valuable scientists, engineers, brilliant organizers, and leaders. The planetary elite were being evacuated. With slow transport ships—poorly armed compared to the attacking predators—and with almost no military escort, the passengers were doomed to almost immediate and horrible death.
Four star cruisers and a swarm of fighters raged without restraint against the transports—determined and ruthless, spewing streams of destructive and deadly powerful bundles of energy beam copies. All their bow batteries were firing at their peak capacity to recharge from the onboard power reactors.
To be able to attack them from the most effective angle, we had to turn right about another fifteen degrees, which was impossible at the speed we were moving. But we had the advantage of high speed, intersecting courses, and the fact that they chose to ignore us because we were small. They were confident that any attempt on our part to attack them would be suicide.
I had the superpowerful spacecraft Scorpion-3nm, which in two or three seconds could almost seamlessly cut a thirty-foot-diameter tunnel in their protective energy field—a capability the enemy’s weapons did not have.
In the following minutes, we were going to experience the quality of our new protective-field technology, which I held in high regard. Those fields, however, were tested but not used in real battle. We were familiar with the capability of our passive weapons, the crystal reflectors, only in theory. We could drop them behind us, parallel to our ship, and even in front of us in our active trajectory because their settings were in the yellow-orange-red range. Yet they were not tested. They were mainly designed to protect, but the refracted beam went back via the same channel it came through, partially preserving its original power. I would be surprised if the design idea and calculations worked out. Unfortunately, we had not had the time to test the crystals in polygon testing conditions. Such first-battle experiments, without additional fine-tuning, often ended up unsatisfactorily, but they simply amounted to testing the idea in a real battle. My fighters couldn’t shoot their crystals, but this was not the crystals’ primary function anyway. They were designed to be a secondary protective reflective device, and woe to those who bridged the protective field of the fighter. The crystals were grouped in two groups of four, with one for every forty-five degrees of the fuselage. The Scorpion-3NM was specifically designed for fighters according to the available power of their reactors. The idea was to supplement good initial power with power from capacitors. However, the charging time of the capacitors during active shooting and powering of the protective force fields increased considerably.
The Scorpion-3MK drilled a nine-foot-diameter tunnel along the side of the targeted space battleship. The dynamics of the battle were changing with the direct confrontation between our small ships and the giant battleships of the invaders. The first two of our fighters were able to enter the trajectory of the turn, and I let them handle the pirate fighter attacking a transport spaceship. I started to turn the frigate in preparation of an attack on a more distant cr
uiser that had engaged the following transport ship with a fury of concentrated firepower. Because it was impossible to slow down for effective fire, I turned the frigate to a trajectory parallel to that of the destroyer’s. The firing computer would determine the initial target and for twelve seconds would hold the target on the stern drive engines of the huge warship.
This was our first direct combat—ship against ship, strike against strike. A single beam hit our protective shield and in a moment was behind us. They were just checking. They would engage us with firepower from behind, aiming at our engines. Those predators knew how to bite us. We sat impassive, sunk in the hydraulics of our seats, rooted by the breaking effect of the ship.
The firing computer took over maneuvering the frigate. Loud cheers erupted among the officers monitoring the developments on our left board. As expected, I saw the two fighters fully engaged in the attack. There were two gaping holes on the right side of the destroyer. Pieces of pipes were being blown out by the pressure from the escaping atmosphere of the ship. Faint light permeated the ship’s portholes that were brightly illuminated only seconds ago. Their emergency lighting had turned on. The once-powerful battleship was now a helpless pile of scrap metal—a death trap. The transport ship that had been destined to be its victim a short while ago was now also pouring destructive fire on it.
I knew that all of this was being recorded and that we were going to watch the footage multiple times—provided that we survived, of course.
We focused our attention on our automatic course of death again. Our speed was high, and only the computer could use the effective few seconds to fire. Even though it was not crushing, the small frigate’s attack on the giant battleship that was unable to handle the small intruder led it away from the ruthless and senseless destruction of helpless, frightened refugees.
We fired our powerful weapon.
The lights in the control room began to flicker, and the sounds of the working machinery and the static electricity in the ventilation system changed. We watched intently straight ahead in the holographic image of our target, which in reality was behind our right shoulder. The frigate bow automatically followed its course toward the target.