The Exxar Chronicles: Book 01 - The Erayan

by Neal Jones

  Decev tapped her commlink and spoke a command. A cardon field appeared close by, and the Chrisarii prisoners were herded into a line and then across the field's threshold. Beyond it was a large bay with metal framework set up in its center. The walls and ceilings of the cells were made of forcefields. One prisoner per cell, and the handcuffs stayed on. Kralin watched Vi'Sar as he was shoved into his cell. Through the glimmer of the forcefield Alikk's face was a shimmering mask, his expression stoic, his emerald eyes betraying nothing as he stared at the floor. Kralin knew what he was thinking, and why he had not committed suicide. Kralin knew why all of them who had been taken captive had not turned their weapons on each other. This battle was over, but the war was not finished. The Federation did not execute its prisoners. Sooner or later, the Chrisarii would escape and their captors would bleed.

  ( 7 )

  The final strains of Krildar's third symphony rattled the walls of Bryson's ready room. As the thunderous climax ebbed, the door chime's buzzing overrode the final, delicate notes of the water harp. The captain scowled and swiveled his chair away from the viewport.

  "Computer, pause playback. Come in."

  Commander Gabriel entered. "All personnel are back from the planet, and here's my preliminary report." He handed Bryson a compad. "Forty-one Chrisarii prisoners are in cargo bay four. None of the Federation prisoners in the central compound survived, but we found seven alive in one of the mine shafts." He paused. "Seven out of one hundred and fifty-six."

  Bryson closed his eyes for a moment, and Gabriel allowed him the silence. When he opened his eyes, he asked, "Have we received any communiqués from the fleet?"

  The first officer nodded. "We have successfully recaptured Rigana-seven. The Breyonn sector belongs to the Federation now."

  Bryson nodded. "Set course to rendezvous with the fleet." He swiveled his chair to face the viewport, turning his back on Gabriel and the door. "Computer, resume playback from the first movement." The DrayH'M symphony exploded from the hidden speakers as Gabriel left.

  ( 8 )

  "Now within visual range, captain."

  "On screen."

  Bryson stood and walked to his customary point behind Bergman's chair. He kept his expression calm, his mouth drawn into a firm, hard line. His bridge crew, however, was not so silent.

  "My gods!" Lieutenant Decev murmured.

  "Are you sure we won?" Bergman queried.

  "Increase magnification by ten," Gabriel ordered, standing beside his captain.

  The aftermath of the battle filled the forward viewscreen. The debris was as thick as ten asteroid fields, spreading for hundreds of kilometers in all directions, with charred hunks of starships floating and crashing into one another like metal icebergs. Here and there, the delayed explosion from an overloaded reactor core would tear one chunk of ship into two. Federation recovery ships were moving among the wreckage like lifeboats among a sea of broken Titanics.

  "Send out a general hail," Bryson finally ordered.

  After a few moments Patrick said, "We're being given rendezvous coordinates. Relaying to helm now."

  "Set a course," the captain said as he returned to his seat. "Take us above the debris field, ensign."

  The bridge remained silent until their arrival at the given coordinates. Patrick adjusted the feed from the external projectors to keep the battlefield in view. A piece of a bow floated close enough to make out the ship's name and registry number. It was the Britaine. Gabriel couldn't help the gasp that escaped him, but he did resist the urge to request a complete sensor sweep of the immediate area. The recovery ships were so named because of their small size and their ability to move quickly through a debris field and locate lifepods and/or survivors. If any of the Britaine's crew had made it off the ship alive, the recovery vessels would find them. It appeared that the lifepods had been launched, but whether that was before or after the ship has been torn asunder, one couldn't say.

  The rendezvous point was a few hundred kilometers past the battlefield, and while the Federation was the victor, it was not by a wide margin. Five-hundred-and-seven Federation vessels had faced the Chrisarii fleet at the start of the battle, but according to Lieutenant Patrick, only fifty-three ships were waiting for Bryson and his small fleet. And, from the look of them, at least half were going to need three weeks in drydock to repair the battle damage. The Bismarck was missing a large chunk from the underbelly of her secondary hull, and the Queen Elizabeth had her entire engineering section torn off. She was presently in the grip of tractor beams which connected her to a pair of towing frigates.

  Lieutenant Decev pressed a finger to her earpiece as she sifted through the comm traffic, as well as pulling up data readouts on her computer screen. "There is a completed list of all ships which have been permanently lost. There is also a preliminary casualty list, and it's being updated every few minutes by the recovery ships."

  Gabriel crossed the distance between the command center and the science station in four quick strides. He looked over Mariah's shoulder, scanning the list of names. They were arranged alphabetically, but there was no Robert Gabriel.

  "Who's in command of the fleet?" Bryson asked.

  Decev pulled up a second readout. "Vice Admiral Gates. He's requesting a complete status report from us."

  "Transmit as soon as you've received all reports from the department heads."

  "Aye, sir."

  The next several hours passed slowly. Although he was off duty, Gabriel could not sleep. The entire fleet had fallen into close formation, just in case the Chrisarii launched a surprise attack. Because of the Tokyo's position, the only view from Gabriel's quarters was a close up of the Queen Elizabeth. Every time he saw her, however, he saw the charred piece of the Britaine's forward hull, and when he closed his eyes he could see his father floating among the wreckage.

  When he arrived for the senior staff briefing the next morning, the others looked as exhausted and pale as he did. Apparently none of them was able to get any sleep, either, and the first officer found this comforting. Bryson, especially, looked worn and tired, his eyes bloodshot.

  "We're remaining in the Rigana system until further notice," Bryson began once everyone was seated. "The ships with the worst damage will be falling back to starbase 527. That will leave twenty-two ships, seven of them EarthCorps, and that includes us. Our orders are to hold this sector."

  His senior officers were too battle worn to elicit the customary gasps and shocked expressions. But it was in their eyes, nonetheless.

  "There's over a dozen star systems in this sector," Paul Decev, the Tokyo's chief engineer, objected. He was seated next to his wife. "Do they really expect us to repel another Chrisarii onslaught?"

  "CMC isn't expecting another onslaught. Initial reports from the Bril system indicate a victory in our favor, and we've managed to hold the Koren sector. Add to those our victory here yesterday, and that makes three major offensives the Chrisarii have lost in less than a month."

  "So Central Command believes the war is now in our favor," Gabriel said.

  "Not yet, but we're very close."

  "What about the prisoners?" Doctor Headman asked.

  "They're remaining with us for now. Gates doesn't believe that any of the ships returning to starbase can successfully serve as prisoner transports. He's already dispatched a communiqué to the starbase requesting an official transport, but it will be at least ten days, possibly more, before one will arrive. In the meantime, we're to have no contact with the prisoners except for what's necessary, such as meal delivery and medical exams. Speaking of which –" Bryson glanced at his CMO.

  "I've already completed my initial exams. None of them had any suicide devices or were infected with something contagious."

  "Good." The captain rose. "Unless anyone has anything else to add, we're finished here." He paused, but no one spoke. "Dismissed. Marc, a moment please."

  Bryson waited until the other had left before delivering the bad news. "The recovery ships hav
e completed their inspection of the Britaine's wreckage and the surrounding area. All of her survivors are aboard the Viking." He paused. "Your father is not among them."

  Gabriel turned away, walking around the table to stand before the viewport. A DrayH'M heavy cruiser was the closest ship in formation, and the commander could make out the lettering of her designation on the side of her emerald hull. "They're certain they recovered all the lifepods?"

  "Yes."

  Marc turned to his captain. "The recovery ships haven't finished searching the entire debris field. It's possible that he was able to transport to another ship, or that the Chrisarii boarded the Britaine and took prisoners."

  "Yes," Bryson nodded. "That is possible."

  Gabriel walked out of the wardroom, and Bryson made no move to stop him.

  ( 9 )

  Galactic Standard Date: 38-25545.07

  (Earth Date: August 16, 2668)

  The Beta Erendii War ended in a treaty of non-conflict between the Federation and Chrisarii. Bitter enemies, exhausted from fighting and resources depleted, had finally decided to declare a truce. Three years earlier, the DrayH'M ambassador, Taelon Zar, had succeeded in opening a dialogue with a high ranking Chrisarii diplomat named Queyn Vorik. It was a long and arduous struggle, but the two were able to convince their respective governments to meet at a summit to discuss terms of peace. However, the best that either side could agree to was a truce. The war was ended, with a stalemate declared. Neither side was the victor, exactly as the first war had ended a century before. Bitter enemies were now guarded allies. It was a tenuous and unstable alliance, at best, but it was an alliance, nonetheless.

  On September 5, 2668, at an awards ceremony at Federation headquarters on Galadreon-253, EarthCorps Vice Admiral Robert Gabriel was posthumously awarded the Christopher Tiberius Medal of Valor for his bravery and sacrifice during the Beta Erendii War. Accepting it from the president of the Federation, Nicosia Phrast, was Robert’s widow, Alanys Gabriel. She held her head up, her face somber, and shook the president's hand as she gave her the medal. Alanys had already shed her tears two years before, when Marc had first told her of her husband's death in the battle at Rigana-Seven.

  When she returned to her seat, Mrs. Gabriel was comforted by her daughter, Melissa, and her eldest son, Jason. Her youngest son, Marc, seated at the end of the row and wearing his dress uniform, wasn't looking at her. His gaze was fixed on the row of flags that lined the rear of the podium. One had been added to the end of the row, a flag of crimson bearing the bronze-and-gold emblem of the Chrisarii Alliance.

  The last medal was handed out, the president somberly spoke a few parting words to close the ceremony, and then she dismissed the audience.

  Marc continued to stare at the flag, and the rage within him burned as deep as the crimson field upon the Chrisarii flag. It was a field that reminded him of the color of blood.

  Part One

  "Welcome To The Jungle..."

  Chapter 1

  ____________________

  ( 1 )

  Galactic Standard Date: 38-22535.11

  (Earth Date: September 2, 2678)

  Ship’s log, ECS Dauntless.

  38-22535.11 GSD.

  Captain Marcus Gabriel recording.

  After eleven months of charting and surveying sector Beta-274, we are finally returning to Earth for some much needed shore leave and upgrades. My crew in stellar cartography, especially, are looking forward to some much needed rest.

  Captain Marcus Gabriel shut off his computer terminal just as his door chime buzzed. "Come in."

  Commander James McCoy entered, three compads clutched in one hand. He held up the first. "Here’s the report from Lieutenant Wolfe on all the engineering modifications as well as the repairs to our drive systems." He grabbed the second. "And this is the list of medical supply requisitions from Doctor Burke." The third. "A communiqué from Admiral Hazen. He wants to see you as soon as we dock."

  Gabriel took the pad and glanced at the message. There was no explanation, just the request. He tossed it on his desk next to the others, and leaned back in his chair. McCoy reclined on the couch which sat against the wall next the room's entrance. Above the sofa was a large painting of the E.C.S. Dauntless against the backdrop of a class three nebula. The portrait had been a gift from Commander Alvarez, the Dauntless' former first officer.

  "Are you sure you don't want to join me?" the captain asked. "There's nothing more relaxing than a horseback ride through the South Hills."

  The first officer grinned as he shook his head. "I'll join you if you join me first."

  "I'm not rappelling down Yosemite." Gabriel stood and opened a cupboard which rested in the wall next to his desk. He withdrew a bottle of Scotch and poured two tumblers. "Not without anti-grav boots."

  "You have no sense of adventure," Jim replied. He sipped the wine and grimaced. "I don't know how you can stomach this."

  Gabriel savored the aftertaste. "The war was enough adventure for me. I'd much rather sit on the back porch and watch the sunset."

  "Is Karri going with you?" Karri Benson was chief science officer, and her personal relationship with the captain had just past the six month anniversary mark.

  "She insisted on it."

  McCoy laughed as he took another sip of his wine. "Have you told your family about her?"

  Gabriel shrugged. "Not yet but now's as good a time as any." He raised his glass. "Cheers."

  "Cheers."

  They downed the last of their drinks, and Jim stood. "See you on the bridge."

  Gabriel nodded, but his smile faded as the door closed behind his first officer. He poured himself another glass and swiveled his chair to face the viewport. The stars were ribbons of silver, streamers shooting from the nexus of an unseen fireworks display. He had no need of shore leave. The survey mission had been uneventful. Only the department of stellar cartography had felt any stress, and that was only because of the tedium which came with sorting and cataloguing the daily data stream from the sensor network. Seven new habitable planets had been discovered, along with four nebulas, two comets, and one gas giant.

  It was the fact that the Dauntless had been summoned to Earth that made Gabriel restless. They were scheduled to put in at starbase 122, the closest drydock to Sector Beta-274, but at the last minute orders had come in from Fleet Admiral Piller directing the Dauntless to Earth station Freedom-Twelve. And now the communiqué from Vice Admiral Hazen, commanding officer of Freedom-Twelve. Something was up.

  Still, it would be nice to see home again. The last time that Gabriel had made it back to Earth was four years earlier, when he first took command of the Dauntless. He had just been promoted to captain, and Hazen had been the one to fasten the fourth pip on Gabriel's collar at the ceremony on Freedom-Twelve's quarterdeck. Alanys had beamed with pride, telling Marc how much he looked like his father. Melissa and her husband had been at the ceremony too, but Jason was not. Marc had only had two days to spend with them then, but now he had ten. Perhaps he could have Mister Wolfe convince the Freedom's dock master that another couple days of repair and refit were needed. After all, the chief engineer had just informed Gabriel yesterday that several glitches had cropped up in the food processor sub-systems.

  But as the captain turned to refill his glass, he saw the communiqué from Hazen. The voice of suspicion began to nibble at the back of his mind once more. It's nothing, Gabriel told himself. You're just being paranoid. Too many years during the war when you had to follow orders without knowing why or where you were headed. Too many communiqués which required the captain's eyes only, while the rest of the crew was left to speculate about the next mission. Gabriel shook his head, emptying his tumbler in one gulp. He put the bottle back in its cupboard and buried Hazen's communiqué in a desk drawer. There was more than enough paperwork to keep his mind occupied just now. He would learn in six hours what was going on.

  ( 2 )

  Vice Admiral William Hazen had just procured a cup of
coffee from his food dispenser when his door chime buzzed. "Come in," he called, setting the steaming mug on his desk.

  Captain Gabriel entered, and the admiral smiled warmly. "Marc! It's good to see you!" He extended his hand.

  The captain shook it, returning the smile and the greeting. "You too! I can't believe it's been four years already."

  "Coffee?"

  "Yes. Please." Gabriel sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. Hazen handed him a mug, then picked up his own and sat in the other chair next to the captain.

  "How was your survey mission?"

  "Tedious. And boring as hell. I hope you've got something a little more exciting planned for us."

  "I talked to your mother yesterday." The admiral sipped his coffee. "She sent me a batch of her rhubarb crunch last week."

  Marc laughed. "

  Hazen nodded. "I told her you were coming home today. She's got a big dinner planned, and your sister and her family will be there."

  Marc smiled, remembering his nieces and nephews. There were four of them, three girls and a boy, all in their teens. But his smile faded when he remembered the last time the whole family had been together. Alanys had accepted the Tiberius for her late husband at Federation headquarters on Galadreon-253.

  The captain sipped his coffee, and then added a little more sugar. "It will be nice to see everyone again." He took another sip, and decided that small talk was done. "So am I to thank you for arranging this family reunion, or did you and the Fleet Admiral have some other reason for bring me all the way back to Earth on such short notice?"

  Hazen's smile tightened itself into a grim line, and his eyes lost some of their good humor. "Always one to cut to the chase. Just like your father." He reached across his desk, grabbing a compad from one corner and handed it to Marc. "You're being given a new command."

  Gabriel began reading, and the admiral allowed him a few moments. The captain looked up, incredulous. "Is this a joke??"