The Exxar Chronicles: Book 01 - The Erayan

by Neal Jones

  Ackden, a stodgy man who'd held his seat on the senate for almost four decades now, pressed the command on his panel which sounded a chime that echoed against the vaulted ceiling of the massive chamber. Koden turned to recognize him.

  "Senator Ackden."

  "Mister Koden, you make it sound as if there's a possibility that that starship's crew might find their way to one of the Erayan outposts."

  "Yes, senator, that is a possibility, but I believe it's a remote one. As it stands now, our invasion is going to be launched in little more than three weeks. I seriously doubt if that ship's crew has yet comprehended the scope of their discovery. By the time they do it won't matter. They'll be too late to stop anything."

  "And what if they somehow discover the Erayan homeworld?" This question came from one of the junior members of the senate. Chrem had only held his seat for six years, but he'd more than held his ground among his older colleagues.

  Koden didn't even hesitate. "I don't believe that's a possibility either. We have been searching for the homeworld for a hundred and thirty years. The odds of that ship's crew discovering it in a matter of days are extremely slim. And even if they did it would take them several weeks to explore and understand the scope of what they found." He passed his gaze over the others. "Any more questions?"

  The governing body of the Jha'Drok Emperium glanced at one another, their expressions reflecting that of the man who currently held the marble floor. He was right. No matter what the Federation found it was already too late for them. It was only a matter of days to zero hour.

  "And what of the other setbacks?" This time it was the Lord's Hand that spoke. Dakkahr Broen was seated in his place to the left of the throne where Lord Emperor Emkai Valayne would normally have sat during these sessions. "Your last report indicated that they would not delay our timetable by a significant amount. In light of what you're telling us now about this EarthCorps starship, should we launch our offensive tomorrow?"

  Koden shook his head once more. "No, sir, I believe our original launch date should still stand. We are working out some last minute details, primarily that of the crew shortage. We still don't have enough officers to fully operate the entire fleet. As it is, we have been forced to keep three legions berthed in the shipyards because there's no crew to man them. However, if you'll recall from my last report, that won't be an issue. We have converted those fleets into a reserve force, and by the time we launch our first offensive in ten days, I am confident that we will have enough soldiers to crew it."

  The whole of the senate waited to see whether Broen was satisfied with this answer. He nodded and made a small motion to Saerdan.

  Zheth Saerdan, Voice of the Senate, leaned forward from his place on the uppermost level of the tier. "I have just one final question. Have there been any significant results from the investigations into these 'other setbacks' that the lord's hand was referring to?"

  Again, Koden didn't hesitate, and he appeared as confident and unflappable as ever. "Unfortunately, no, senator, there hasn't been any leads in our investigation. For now, we are assuming that these acts of vandalism and violence are the result of actions being taken by members of the Drigald."

  This created a stir in among the senate, and Saerdan rapped his gavel to restore order. The Shouk Drigald was a terrorist organization who opposed the monarchy, believing instead that a more democratic government – such as the one which ruled the Interstellar Federation of Peace – was more appropriate. In the last few decades, what had once begun as a benign, underground movement had all but exploded – both literally and figuratively – into the public arena, even more so as the launch date of the invasion neared. More and more personnel within the government and the military were being exposed as secret members of the Drigald, and this had created a security risk to the entire project. Until twenty years ago, the general public had never been aware of such a project, but now, because of leaks within the press and the senate, most of the people of the empire knew that a full scale invasion of the Federation was about to be launched, and the Drigald were against it.

  "We have tightened security at all the shipyards, and have taken additional measures to ensure all information is known only to necessary parties, but to be honest, senator, with the shortage we are facing in military personnel to crew our assault fleet, we have to take chances with the soldiers we recruit. Background screenings are as detailed as we can make them without turning away almost every able body that enlists."

  Another murmur of objections and agreements rippled through the senate, and Saerdan rapped his gavel. "Thank you, Senator Koden, for your report. I'm sure I speak for everyone when I say that there's no need to alter our timetable. The plans for this operation shall remain as they are." He rapped his gavel twice, then picked up a compad. "Now, about this next item on today's agenda –"

  Jolan tuned out the Voice's monologue as he struggled to settle the disquiet in his gut. He glanced at the chrono display in the upper corner of his computer screen. Three hours until lunch. Jolan closed his eyes and scrubbed a hand over his face, then forced himself to pay attention to the matter at hand. He would take sick leave at lunch and try to get some sleep before visiting a father intercessor later that night.

  ( 3 )

  Inaso Tahn, the father intercessor, was a man in his twilight years, a servant of the Gods who had devoted his life to his calling, and he presided over one of the smaller temples in Gtheldron. The capital city was large enough that it needed more than one temple where its citizens could worship. The largest, of course, was near the Hexagon, which was where Jolan and the other senators attended weekly services. And that was precisely why Jolan came to see Tahn. His temple was in the Hurak district, one of the outermost regions of the city, and also one of the poorest. It was as far from the Hexagon as one could get in Gtheldron.

  It was after midnight, and Jolan pulled his cloak tighter about his thin frame, quickening his pace. The temple was directly ahead, just around the next corner, and a light was burning in the Master's window. It was several moments after Jolan's knock that the door opened.

  "Hello?"

  Jolan threw back his hood and moved further into the doorway so the lamplight would fall across his face. "Father Tahn?"

  "Yes?"

  "I am J-" The senator stopped and corrected himself. "A stranger in need of a spiritual voice."

  "Uh, yes, all right, come in." Inaso stood aside and closed the door after Jolan had entered the foyer. "My rooms are upstairs. Follow me."

  Jolan was immediately struck by the awkwardness of the man's presence, as though he was constantly second guessing himself or forgot what it was he had come into a room for. The Master poured two cups of tea and set one in front of Jolan. Then he sat across from the senator and took a sip as he waited for the other man to collect his thoughts and speak.

  "I...I need help, Father."

  "The Gods always listen to the prayers of their children. I am the Voice of the Gods, and I speak for them. Tell me, child, of your burden."

  "You say that so effortlessly, don't you? I imagine that you hear a lot of confessions, a lot of secrets."

  Inaso nodded. "I am an Intercessor. It is my joy to give forgiveness, and my duty to take on another's pain."

  "You may think twice once you hear of my pain."

  "I know who you are, senator, and I know that you serve the Empire."

  Jolan was so startled that he nearly dropped his cup. He managed to set it on its saucer before running a nervous hand through his hair. "I suppose I shouldn't be so surprised." He gave a wan smile. "My project has affected almost every corner of the Emperium."

  Tahn nodded. "You are serving the Gods, senator. Their will be done, and I imagine that your burden is the greatest of all."

  "Yes, yes it is. But not for the reason that you think. I serve the true Gods, and all others are false. I care not for the souls of the enemy, souls that are damned to eternal darkness. They have chosen their path." Jolan reached for his
cup, then paused and withdrew his hand. He stared into it, losing himself in the depths of the amber liquid. "Father, is it possible for the Gods to use someone besides you as Their voice?"

  Inaso frowned. "I don't understand."

  Jolan looked up. "For the last few nights, my sleep has been troubled by... by a vision. That is the only word that I can use to describe it. It is much more vivid than a dream, far more real than a nightmare. Those fade almost as soon as one awakes, yet I can remember every detail of my vision as clear as you are sitting before me now." He told the Father of his vision, omitting only Eril's name. When he finished, he took another long sip of his tea.

  Inaso, too, drank his tea, not sure what to make of Jolan's story. After several moments of awkward silence the priest said, "Senator, I do not believe the Gods are sending you a message. Rather, I believe this is only a nightmare, albeit a very extraordinary one. Your burden is greater than most, for all the glory of the empire rests upon your shoulders. The stress of your position, along with your fear of failure, has caused your sleeplessness and anxiety."

  Jolan nodded, wanting desperately to believe the lie, but his conscious mind knew better. The "setbacks" which had been discussed earlier that day on the senate floor involved the explosion which had obliterated a quarter of the Dalsk shipyards, the "accidental" destruction of three battle carriers due to the "negligence" of an operations engineer, and the detonation of a reactor core at one the testing stations close to the shipyards. That was the latest, and as Koden had reported to the senate, it wasn't yet certain if the explosion had been accidental or intentional. Engineers and medical personnel were still sifting through the damage and debris. And now the discovery of a hypergate by the EarthCorps vessel, as well as the vision of Gtheldron on fire, with Eril consumed by flames as well. Jolan was not a superstitious man, but he believed in the Gods, and he believed that he was doing their will. He also believed that they sometimes moved in mysterious ways, and that while there had been no prophet to walk among the Children of Jha'Dar in almost 3,000 years, there was no spiritual edict that said the Gods could not choose a new Voice.

  Jolan drank the last of his tea and stood. "Thank you, Father, for seeing me at such a late hour. Your words have...calmed me."

  "I'm glad," Tahn replied. "Be at peace, senator, and know that you walk in favor with the Gods."

  "Yes," Jolan murmured as he returned to the night, pulling his cowl over his head. "Yes, of course I do."

  ( 4 )

  Captain McKenna leaned back and closed her eyes. The harmonious strains of Endu's Third Opus, Fourth Movement, washed over her like water from a sacred fountain, calming her troubled mind and easing her anxiety. The Dauntless was six hours from the gateway, and McKenna had spent the last two going over the tactical data from the battle two days earlier. The rest of her senior staff were doing the same thing - had been since their departure from Exxar-One - searching for anything, no matter how small, that might give them an additional edge the second time around. McKenna wanted to count on more than just the Haal'Chai raider. Unfortunately, her own search had been fruitless, and as the final notes of the opus tumbled gently over her, the captain exhaled, dispelling her anxious thoughts with a sweep of her mental hand. She opened her eyes, leaned forward, and cleared her computer screen with as swift a movement as she had cleared her thoughts. It was time to form a battle plan using what she had, but the door chime interrupted her before she could set to her task. She paused the computer before it could begin playing the next selection on the playlist.

  "Come in."

  Ensign Juarez and Lieutenant Wolfe entered, the former looking eager yet nervous, and the latter looking as stoic as ever. But there was a definite gleam in the chief engineer's eyes, and as she motioned for the men to sit, McKenna felt a leap within her gut at the possibility of good news.

  "Captain," Wolfe began, "we think we've found you another ace for your sleeve."

  "Glad to hear it."

  Wolfe glanced at Juarez, and the ensign coughed before leaning forward to hand McKenna a compad. "We, uh, it took awhile for us to find it, ma'am. But we eventually discovered how the drones were able to communicate with each other."

  "Relax, ensign." McKenna smiled. "Take a deep breath. It's just me."

  Juarez laughed. "Yes, ma'am, I know." He paused to do as she said. "The reason it took us so long to find the frequency was because the drones were using one of the lower hyperspace bandwidths. One of the lowest, actually. They were also using our radio communication with our stinger pilots to mask their own. They transmitted two second bursts at three different times during the attack. All we have to do is flood the combat area with the standard jamming signals on all frequencies."

  "But that means we'll lose communication with our pilots, and they'll lose communication with each other."

  "Yes, ma'am, that is one of the drawbacks of this plan. But I think that if we lay out a detailed strategy ahead of time, and we plan for three or four variables, our pilots should be able to do just fine. They'll still have their tactical systems and sensors, so they won't have any trouble distinguishing friend from foe."

  McKenna nodded, perusing the report one last time before setting the pad down. "Good work gentlemen."

  "It was Ensign Juarez who did most of the work," Wolfe acknowledged.

  "My complements, ensign. I want you to present this at the staff briefing in an hour. Anything else?" Juarez blushed as he shook his head, and McKenna stood. "Dismissed." After her officers left, she turned to the holographic display which covered a quarter of the wall behind her desk. Since the bridge and the captain's ready room were several decks deep inside the ship, there was no actual viewports. The forward viewscreen was also a holographic projection, and, as McKenna took a few moments to stargaze, she felt a renewed resolve welling up in her gut. The two aces up her sleeve weren't very big, but they would be enough. She would make them work, the odds be damned. She turned at sat at her desk, pressing a command into her terminal's keypad. As she began typing up a new battle plan, the thunderous opening of Endu's Third Opus, Fifth Movement, roared about her and she let herself be swept up in its harmonious storm.

  ( 5 )

  Lieutenant Navarr stepped into her quarters, relieved to see that Sikandra was already there. "Well?"

  "Shift was same as always, although I was finally able to unclog that fucking drain in the secondary maintenance bay."

  The statement was code. Sikandra had found a way to tap into the base's central communications net. From there, she was able to link up with the colony's commnet and transmit a coded message to the prearranged address which Navin had given her before sending them here.

  Navarr nodded as she unzipped her uniform jacket. She hated the color of the damn things, an ugly brown, the same color as shit. As she checked her medkit to see how much of the anti-allergen medication was left, she said, "I saw Arrul on his way to his office. He's meeting with Vi'Sar again."

  "Yeah, I heard some more rumors among the guys in the rec room. Whatever's happening is happening very soon."

  The rest didn't need to be said. The women knew that if they didn't get out of this mission soon, they were going to get swept up in whatever operation Vi'Sar was about to launch. Problem was, they needed a safe place to talk, somewhere that was free of any eyes or surveillance technology. Whenever they were on shift, there was always one or two others nearby and, despite their best efforts, the pair hadn't been able to secure a job which would separate them from the others. They had almost succeeded yesterday, when a pair of raiders had been brought in to the primary maintenance bay. But Naln, the deck chief, had only pulled a couple of the workers on duty, instead of the four that were with Sikandra and Navarr.

  The other problem was the fact that Arrul allowed none of his officers off base. Only he and Tauck, his second in command, ever went above the surface, occasionally bringing back with them one or two new resistance members, the same way that they had brought Sikandra and Navarr into
the rebel fold. The only way to the surface was the central PTL tube, and it was guarded with video surveillance as well as a computer system which would only allow Arrul or Tauck to pass, and only after a retina scan.

  As it stood now, there was no choice but to wait until Vi'Sar put his plan into motion. With any luck - and there had been a great deal of that so far - Sikandra and Navarr could escape, undetected, during the chaos and excitement of the deployment. As Navarr injected herself with another dose of the allergy medication, she hoped that the action would begin soon. She only had three doses left. Once they were gone it was going to be difficult to hide her true nature.

  ( 6 )

  Captain Arrul poured two tumblers of wine and handed one to Alikk Vi'Sar. The leader of the Haal'Chai had anointed himself General, and he was standing beside Arrul's desk, looking at the painting on the nearby wall.

  "It was done by my brother," Arrul said. "Two weeks before he died in the A'osa Rebellion."

  "There is a certain amateurish charm about it," Vi'Sar stated, before turning and accepting his glass. "Though he does make excellent use of tenth century impressionism."

  Arrul sat behind his desk, and Vi'Sar took the chair in front of it. They sipped in silence for a few moments before Arrul said, "You know, Alikk, that I will follow you into Cho'Vok'Lor if you will it, but I must ask you this: are you truly prepared for this? Do you really believe you can attack homeworld with just a few raiders?"

  "Are you questioning me, Schabe?"

  "Of course not. But I am questioning your plan."

  Vi'Sar was not a dictator or a warlord. He was a military leader who allowed his officers to question strategy and orders, as long as they didn't do it daily, and as long as they understood that his word was final. "I haven't told you the details of my plan."

  "No, you haven't, and I was hoping that you would trust me enough by now to do so." He took a measured sip of his wine, then said, "I know about the Jha'Drok."