by Neal Jones
This time, there was a few more vocal affirmatives, but the clamor that had started a few seconds earlier was reborn as the people who'd originally started it stood up again to demand answers to their questions. One of them was an outspoken humanoid man in Navarr's quadrant. She couldn't immediately recall the name of his species, but she could tell that he was going to be the main troublemaker. He had that air about him, that look that said he was the best authority on everything and that he also never took shit from anyone, especially uniformed soldiers who claimed that their security measures were for his protection when, in reality, they were just trying to cover their own asses.
"Sir," Navarr said, stepping closer to the man and laying her hand on the butt of her pulser, "you heard Lieutenant Chandler. You need to sit down and remain calm."
"I am calm, lieutenant! What I want is some answers. I heard the reports about the Haal'Chai and their superior technology. That's why Gabriel is so sure we're going to be boarded, isn't it? Tell me the truth!"
"Sir, I understand your need for some answers." Navarr succeeded in keeping her tone level and her frustration out of it. "What's your name?"
"Excuse me?"
"What's your name? I'm Christine Navarr."
The sudden request and the change of subject seemed to take most of the wind out of the man's sails. "I'm Tisiro Vinal."
"Nice to meet you, Tisiro. Believe it or not, I'm not sure what's happening, either. Not even I have all the details, but I need to follow Gabriel's orders, same as you. That's the truth. I promise as soon as I know anything more that I'll let you know as well. Deal?"
Vinal's expression remained dubious, but he nodded. "All right."
Lieutenant Chandler had also succeeded in calming the others who were starting to rally around Vinal, and Ambassador Zar was lending her presence as well. The medics were passing out bottles of water and ration packs, and everything was under control.
For now.
( 10 )
It was almost time. Only two minutes remained in the hour that Colonel Serehl had given to Gabriel and his crew. The commodore stood at the ops console, hands clasped behind his back, waiting calmly for the countdown to end. Saveck and Hiller were on either side of him, and the other officers manning their posts were equally quiet as they kept one eye on their screens and the other on the holo-comm. Gabriel hoped that twenty minutes had been enough time for his plan to be disseminated among the entire crew, for he doubted that Serehl would give him another hour to make preparations for surrender. On the other hand, if the commodore played his role just right, he might be able to squeeze another thirty minutes out of the enemy commander.
The countdown ended and, a moment later, Lieutenant Greene reported an incoming transmission request.
"Activate holo-comm," Gabriel ordered.
Serehl appeared, looking as smug as before. His hands were clasped behind him in the same fashion as Gabriel's, and he waited silently for the commodore to speak.
Gabriel cleared his throat and altered his expression to show just the right mixture of contrition and defiance. "Colonel Serehl. You clearly possess the upper hand in this fight, and I will not allow my crew to sacrifice their lives for a hopeless cause. By the authority invested in me as a flag officer of the Interstellar Federation of Peace, I surrender my station, myself, and my crew to your command."
Chapter 25
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( 1 )
Commander Hiller accepted a compad from a Chrisarii lieutenant and then passed it on to Commodore Gabriel. "Everything's in place, sir, and the crew is awaiting your final order."
"Good." Gabriel perused the report for a few moments before laying it on the ops table.
The command deck was silent, the tension as thick as desert heat, and every officer was glued to his or her station. Gabriel had canceled the red alert and ordered a stand down to condition yellow. In the absence of the siren, there was only the occasional bleeps and blurps of the computer terminals as their operators typed in commands and pulled up readouts. Serehl had granted Gabriel one more hour to prepare his crew, but both of them knew that the colonel was the one who needed the extra time. He had shown no surprise at Gabriel's surrender, and the commodore was genuinely curious to see how the enemy commandant was going to pull off this operation. It didn't matter how he deployed his infantry squads, there wasn't enough of them to secure all the L1 stations. Main engineering, the command deck, AGC, weapons stores, the shuttledocks, and computer processing control (CPC) were the obvious choices for initial deployment, and Serehl was going to need at least a thousand soldiers for those sections alone. The central security office, the medical sector, crew quarters and the promenade were the next logical targets, and securing them would require at least three thousand more troops.
But first he'd have to get past the squads of Marines and station security officers who were guarding those key sectors, and even if he succeeded in capturing and controlling all of those sections, that still left a very large portion of the station unsecured, and that was one of the major factors that Gabriel was counting on to make his plan a success. Yes, Serehl had the upper hand in ship-to-ship combat, but in crew complement and manpower he was outnumbered at least thirty to one. He could, of course, take hostages from the conquered sections and demand the surrender of the soldiers who were holding out in the rest of the outpost. But the commodore had planned for that eventuality as well, and Krael Zar had dispersed his officers to the rest of the station exactly as Gabriel had instructed. There was nothing to do now but wait.
Marc crossed his arms and surveyed the command deck. He was careful to keep his expression calm, even though he wasn't really feeling any anxiety. Taking his crew into battle was familiar territory, and all this felt right somehow. The events of the last several weeks - the attacks by the Haal'Chai raiders, Ambassador Vorik's murder, the tension between the Chrisarii and Federation officers, the suicide bombing - it was all finally coming to a head, and the next few hours would determine whether or not Taelon and Queyn's vision for a peaceful coexistence between the Federation and the Chrisarii would actually survive its infancy.
If Gabriel was anxious about one thing, it was the station itself. So much had gone so wrong in the last seven weeks that he was determined - come hell or high seas - that Exxar-One would not fall, even if it meant fighting a battle to the death, and the cruel irony was not lost on the commodore. He had accepted this assignment with dragging feet and vehement protests, and now he was putting that same fervor and defiance into ensuring that this starbase wouldn't fall to the Haal'Chai.
Gabriel glanced at Saveck from the corner of his eye, wondering what was passing through the Chrisarii's mind at this moment. He had said little except to lend his support for Gabriel's plan after the commodore had finished outlining it in his officer earlier, and the major had passed on those orders to the crew with crisp efficiency. But now he was standing silent and still, his gaze fixed on nothing in particular, and Gabriel was surprised to discover that he wasn't at all fearful of the major's loyalty. He couldn't say exactly why, for Saveck had never stated it clearly and for certain, but Gabriel knew that when push came to shove, when the Haal'Chai infantry stormed aboard Exxar-One and the crap finally hit the spinning blades, Major Kralin Saveck would fight at Gabriel's side as if they were allies.
And that, the commodore decided, was the biggest irony of this whole situation.
( 2 )
Saveck was thinking of his older brother, Jran. He was also remembering the Beta Erendii colony, the one whose destruction had started the ten year war between the Federation and the Chrisarii Alliance. Jran Saveck was a farmer, a man who took pleasure in providing for his family by working the land. He was nothing like Kralin, a fact that had driven the boys to sibling rivalry over many things during their childhood. Jran was faithful to his parents, and while he wasn't always obedient, he never questioned them in the way that Kralin did. Kralin despised the religion of Tor'Ahl and his pare
nts' adherence to its creed and beliefs. He believed it was all nonsense, and he refused to undergo the Rite of Ascension, a ritual that was supposed to seal his soul unto the Varashok for eternity.
Since Jran was much older than Kralin, he had already left home and moved to the Beta Erendii colony when it came time for Kralin to take part in the ritual. There was a long and heated argument with his parents, and they finally decided that it was best he live with Jran and his family for awhile. Kralin had been only too happy to accept, and the two years that he spent there were relatively peaceful. Jran didn't judge his brother, though he was disappointed in him, and he would remind Kralin every so often that he should return to homeworld and heal the rift before it was too late.
And then the border skirmishes between Alliance warships and Federation patrol fleets suddenly escalated, and fire rained from the sky during one particularly dark night. Large sections of the sprawling, massive colony were obliterated, including the farm of Jran Saveck. Kralin had helped to dig up the bodies of his brother, his sister-in-law, his niece and nephew in the early light of dawn. They were charred corpses, nearly unrecognizable, and the massacre was broadcast by INC to all corners of the Alliance and the Federation. It took only three weeks of deliberation by the Quorum of Elders before they voted unanimously to declare war.
Farak and Jharis had never forgiven their youngest son for bringing home the ashes of Jran and his family. It was as though the attack had been his fault somehow, and the rift grew even wider. Kralin immediately left to join the military, and he had not spoken to his parents since that night twenty years ago. Yet he thought about them every so often, although it felt strange to be thinking of them now. He supposed that they would not react all that much to learning of his death. They would probably bury him in the family plot, beside the ashes of Jran, Tarish, Mikel and Larha, and they might pray for his soul, or at least his mother would.
Kralin sighed inwardly as he looked down at the ops console and the holo-image of Exxar-One that Gabriel had brought up. The Haal'Chai fleet hovered around the behemoth like flies on a corpse. The major was feeling the familiar surge of adrenaline that one always felt before battle, but this time there was something beneath it, an undercurrent that he could only identify as a feeling of relief, which wasn't much of a surprise. Like Gabriel, this was familiar territory for Saveck, and it felt right somehow to be going to war again. Peace between two empires as divergent as the Chrisarii and the Federation was never meant to last, and it was a relief to walk away from the negotiation table to reach for one's sword and armor.
But there was another reason for feeling relieved. Or maybe it was resignation. It was something that he'd only recently come to terms with, and he now recognized why the faces of Jran and his family were floating to the surface of his conscious mind so frequently in the last few weeks. And why the guilt of not speaking with his parents for so long was beginning to weigh even heavier on his soul now than it had a decade ago.
Kralin hoped that this would be his last battle.
He'd been thinking about a warrior's suicide ritual long before taking this assignment, but only in the last several weeks had that desire intensified. It was an old ritual, one that hadn't been practiced in the last four centuries, but it could still be done. Shil'Ra Tosar would have been willing to perform the last rites, and Saveck could be free of the demons that had plagued him since that dark night on Beta Erendii. He had, in fact, begun the preparations three days ago, though there wasn't much to do except procure a specific type of incense and a ceremonial censer. He already possessed a Pak'Lar dagger, though it needed sharpening and a good polish. All that had been left on the list was to request the Shil'Ra to perform the last rites and listen to Saveck's prayer of contrition and atonement. The major had planned to stop by the cathedral on his way home this evening, but then the Haal'Chai had arrived, and now he was feeling immense relief because of their presence.
This would be his last battle. He had spent most of his adult life fighting, treasuring his rage like a medal of honor, keeping it close to his soul and nurturing it as a gardener cares for a precious tree. For Saveck, the roots of his fury and bitterness ran deep, and while the nightmares that he had suffered those first few months after the Beta Erendii massacre had eventually ceased, the scene of his fingers clawing at the earth and rubble in early dawn, as well as the memory of his mother weeping as he handed her the four small, intricately carved vials of ashes, had haunted him for all of his days since. He had turned away from his parents, turned his back on the homestead where he'd been raised, and he had never looked back.
Saveck's reasons for enlisting in the military and fighting with every last breath for his empire were the same as so many others who had survived the massacre. All that mattered was killing the enemy, the ones who had shed the blood of the innocents, and whenever Saveck piloted a warship into battle or drew his dagger for hand-to-hand combat, he murmured the names of Jran, Tarish, Mikel and Larha, shedding the enemy's blood for their blood, avenging their loss by bringing loss to the families of the Federation soldiers.
That was why it had been so utterly difficult and nearly heartbreaking for him to stand in Gabriel's office and not tear out the throat of the commodore who was sticking out his hand as if he and Saveck were old friends who hadn't seen each other in so long. That was the hardest thing about a thirst for vengeance. If you sated it enough, fed it and nourished it with the blood of your enemy for long enough, then the thirst eventually became more prolonged and more demanding, until it was all that defined you. The day after Queyn and Warris' murder, when Saveck had gone to the brig to see Isaac Blacke, he had felt what he thought was a renewal of that hunger. But now, in these last few days, as Saveck made preparations for the suicide ritual, he realized that what he had experienced was not a renewal. The hunger had always been there, had always been lurking just behind his eyes and in the shadows of his soul, the tree whose roots had never been completely removed.
Then Doctor Lom had blown up the Holy Church of God's Witness. Her actions had affected Kralin in such a profound and unexpected way that he had buried his reaction beneath a façade of cool professionalism and outward denouncement of the doctor's beliefs. But during the night, as the faces of Jran, Tarish, Mikel and Larha had begun to reappear to Saveck in his darkest dreams, he had recognized his initial reaction to the bombing for what it truly was.
The hunger that he had not been allowed to feed for the last ten years demanded to be sated, and he had felt a strong sense of pride for Lom and her willingness to sacrifice her life for the empire. More than that, she'd had the courage to act on her beliefs, and Saveck recognized that the darkness of his soul, the darkness that had consumed him for so long, now threatened to completely drown him and, more importantly, he had no desire to fight it. Fighting was all he'd known, was all that he could remember, even in his childhood and adolescence, when he had railed against everything that his parents stood for. It seemed now as if the fury that he had felt as he clawed through earth, ash and rubble to uncover the corpses of his brother's family had been with him since birth, and only in that gray light of dawn on Beta Erendii had it finally been given a voice and a purpose.
It would be better this way. His death would be a welcome release, and while it would grieve his parents, they would eventually run out of tears, and they could finally stop wondering if he was all right. There would always be an emptiness in their souls, a void left by the loss of their sons and grandchildren, but then their own deaths would eventually come and they would find the same release that Kralin had found.
Saveck glanced at Gabriel as the commodore keyed a command into his panel and every terminal in opcon went dark. The holo-image of Exxar-One and the Haal'Chai fleet vanished as main power went off line and the emergency systems kicked in. The major cleared his mind, erasing all unnecessary thoughts as he squared his shoulders and clasped his hands behind his back in the same manner as the commodore.
The wait was almo
st over.
( 3 )
Lieutenant Navarr glanced up from her conversation with Ambassador Zar as the lights went out. Emergency power came on a second later, but many of the civilians who'd been reasonably calm suddenly became anxious again, and a few - including Mister Vinal - stood up to demand some answers. But Lieutenant Chandler beat them to it.
"It's all right, people! Settle down, please! Commodore Gabriel has issued a station-wide shutdown of main systems. Emergency power is functioning as it should, and everything is going according to plan! Have a seat, sir. I won't ask you again."
That last part was directed at Vinal, and the man looked like he was going to protest but then thought better of it. Navarr nodded to him in a reassuring manner, and he scowled as he obeyed the officer.
( 4 )
Exxar-One was turned from a gleaming, bustling military starbase into a ghost ship in the time lapse of two minutes. Crew quarters, the promenade, the rec deck, main engineering, the observation dome, life sciences, Air Group Command, the security sector, CPCs, and every corridor in between was plunged into darkness and then dimly re-illuminated with emergency power. Hundreds of squads of Marines and security officers were positioned in key sectors throughout the station, weapons at the ready, prepared to defend their starbase against the Haal'Chai storm.
( 5 )
A cardon field appeared on the second level of the command deck, less than two meters from the ops console, and Gabriel watched calmly as Colonel Serehl stepped across the threshold. From behind him poured thee squads of infantry soldiers, clad in full battle armor, and within seconds every Federation and Chrisarii officer had the muzzle of a pulse rifle pointed at his or her skull. The commodore's stoic expression didn't so much as flicker as he watched Serehl cover the short distance between them. The very imposing and very sinister presence that the colonel exuded via the holo-comm was even more pressing in person, and Gabriel fought very hard not to break the staring contest that found himself suddenly locked into.