CHAPTER 2: Survivors
(Alpha Year 52): Jeff Armstrong crouched near the Torgai lookout, who stood silently scanning the approaches to the village located in the mountain valley sandwiched between the eastern and western ranges. It was the half-light before dawn, and while the sun was beginning to rise above the eastern range it had not as yet cast its light to the valley floor.
Pulling his fur robe tightly around him to ward off the pre-dawn chill, Jeff searched the shadows in the hollow below for any sign of village activity. Only the dark shadows of the den mouths presented any sign that below was anything but forest floor, the village and the trees among which it was located wreathed in tendrils of chill groundfog. Even the smoke from the cooking fires, inside the dens at this time of year, was nearly indiscernible as it mixed with the layer of fog. In a little while, as the fog thickened before the sun rose and burned it off, even the den mouths would be invisible, leaving no sign of habitation.
Since they moved their village to this isolated valley they had not been bothered by Gath ground patrols, remained undiscovered by air patrols, and the few Kraa packs they had encountered in the last several years had left them undisturbed, part of an 'uneasy' truce that had slowly developed.
The Kraa could have easily destroyed this small group if they had wanted, but Kraa-Kuk-T had served as a successful intermediary with the Kraa leadership. While a hereditary antipathy existed between Kraa and Torgai, Kraa-Ki well understood the real threat now was the Gath, and neither group wanted to add to their main problem. And, for some reason known only to her, Kraa-Ki had decided to again honor the original treaty between the human-Torgai alliance and her Kraa, but the Kraa no longer adhered to the former boundaries. The two groups just avoided each other.
Why Kraa-Ki had allowed the small band of Torgai to coexist independently was difficult to understand. Perhaps, because of the Kraa-Torgai in her own packs she had outgrown her native antipathy. Perhaps she was looking forward to the day when the Gath were gone and the Torgai might again become useful to her. In any case, while she could easily have destroyed the small Torgai band, she chose not to.
In the case of the one human, Jeff, to her he was simply one of the 'flat-faced' Torgai with whom she had originally negotiated a settlement, and was now merely a member of the Torgai band. But Jeff well knew this could change, and they must be on constant guard. Either he, Kath, Ta, or one of the senior hunters rotated in circulating among the various lookout posts making sure they were on the alert. This had been his night, which came up once every six days.
Years before, when Jeff and the small group of Torgai he accompanied had located Ta with his few remaining Torgai, they discovered that the human-Torgai settlements on the archipelago still survived. Not only that, Sula the shaman of Ta's group was in frequent communication using the mind-link with Taru, the shaman on the islands. Their own hope was bolstered not only by knowledge the settlements still survived, but by the belief among the colonists that a relief expedition from Earth would someday arrive. But when?
Years had passed, no relief had arrived, and the last communication link with Earth had failed. Still, they believed help would arrive someday, and they must be prepared. If the relief expedition needed information on the Gath, the Torgai on the mainland would attempt to provide it for transmission from Sula to Taru, and then to the relief expedition. Even now, and for the last several years, they had been sending small scouting parties to the lowlands to pinpoint the location of Gath installations, and what information they had been able to collect was already on the archipelago.
It was almost 17 Alpha years now since Jeff had seen or talked to another human, and, while he had lived among Torgai all his life, the older he became the more he knew he didn't belong. He could never be a complete Torgai, nor a complete human either. He was now 48 in Alpha 2 years, over 50 in Earth years, and knew if he were to ever again be among humans it would be in the next two or three years, or it would be never.
If a relief expedition never came, then he would live out his life without ever seeing or talking to a human again. While Jeff knew a relief expedition might never arrive, the hope is what kept him going.
In deep space . . . .
Rear-Admiral Honecker walked rapidly down the nearly empty hallway on his way from his meeting in Vice-Admiral Collins’ office. Vice-Admiral Collins reported to Admiral Lundblad, with overall command of the attack ships and shuttle fleet. Honecker, Admiral Collins’ executive and operations officer, was responsible for training of the crews and for tactics.
Within days the flagship Stockholm’s trajectory change would start, with the backup flagship with a duplicate command structure aboard several days behind. The backup would remain away from the field of battle itself; insurance in case of loss of the Stockholm. In addition, certain parts of the command structure, now concentrated on the Stockholm, would be dispersed among other ships once battle was eminent.
The course change was a momentous and dangerous event. Even at their current reduced speed the enormous energy required to readjust their orbit from targeting Beta 3 to targeting Alpha 2 meant they had to skirt the corona of the Alpha B star to allow its gravity to supplement the engines, and any miscalculation would lead to destruction. Further, the intense gravitational forces during the process forced all personal into stasis, leaving the ships under automatic control.
But the goal was worth the risk. On the current trajectory the Gath should have been deluded into belief the target for invasion was Beta 3 itself and concentrated their forces there for its defense. Today's course correction would cause the fleet to slingshot around the Alpha B star and reestablish their trajectory to Alpha 2 in the Alpha A solar system instead.
While the Gath would realize their mistake as soon as they observed the trajectory change, it would be too late. In less than three months the fleet would be orbiting Alpha 2 and its moon, with the Gath moon installations the first target.. Based on information from their monitoring ships in the asteroid belt it would take the Gath at least six months travel time, plus preparation time, before they could transfer their forces to Alpha 2.
If successful against the Gath moon installation the reconquest of Alpha 2 would be the next step. In effect, they had three months to complete the conquest, or at a minimum neutralize the Gath forces.
Faud was still concerned by the shortage of attack ship pilots. Early in the mission the monitoring ships had transmitted information on the Gath fighter craft that had been very disturbing. Acclimated to the heavy gravity of Beta 3 the Gath were able to withstand much heavier G levels than humans, enabling more rapid maneuvers than the human body could handle, putting the Earth attack ships at a major disadvantage. While the question of converting the attack ships to drones was considered, it was not a good substitute for live pilots in air to air combat.
It was a late 20th century innovation, sometimes used for deep sea diving, that had proved successful; submerging the pilots in an oxygen rich liquid as a substitute for air, with which it was possible to nearly match the Gath ships. The problem of poor response time when confined in the liquid environment was solved with neural implants providing the needed control. But many pilots were unable to deal with the claustrophobic effect of the liquid environment, and over half of the trained attack ship pilots had washed out, creating the current shortage.
One of those unable to adapt had been Admiral Sixkiller's daughter, Sage, who had subsequently transferred to a marine ground combat assignment. Others, like Sixkiller's son Quanah, had easily adapted without developing the paranoia many experienced. But piloting the attack ships was the 'glamour' assignment on the mission, and the waiting list had always been long. For many this attraction outweighed the disadvantages, so while many of the lost pilots had been replaced, they were without the intensive training the lost pilots had undergone during the free-flight phase.
Faud looked at his watch. While not a Christian, he had been invited to share Easter dinner with Tom Sixkiller
and his family. Tom, his wife Wren, and his daughter Sage and son Quanah were all based on the flagship Stockholm. Their older son, Levi, a starship lieutenant commander, had transferred to the Bolivar two years before when he married a woman based on that ship who he had first met when, as a shuttle pilot, she had spent a short time on the Stockholm. This was Levi's first return since the wedding, but this morning he and his wife, Consuela, had arrived for the holiday after managing to find space on one of the shuttles. This would be quite a celebration; the first, and perhaps last time the whole family would be together, and this would be their first opportunity to meet Consuela. It would be a short visit, since shuttle traffic would stop once the course correction began.
Without a family, Faud spent most of his holidays and many of his days off at the Sixkillers, and often was there for dinner. He was close to all the members of the family, and the Sixkiller children referred to him as 'Uncle Faud'. It would be good to see Levi again and meet his wife.
A week later, Beta 3 . . . .
Gath-1 hurried down the broad hallway, followed by Gath-2; at least he 'hurried' as fast as his massive, awkward body allowed. He was still in shock from the message that had just been relayed to his quarters, and had immediately called an emergency meeting of the council. At the council chambers an attendant opened the broad doorway and stood aside as the two Gath leaders stomped into the room, lowered themselves to their seats, and glared around. The council members looked expectantly at Gath-1, waiting for him to speak.
"Well," Gath-1 said angrily, looking around the silent room, "apparently the information we received on the destination of the invasion fleet was wrong."
The council members looked at each other, none choosing to comment.
"Word has just arrived of a change in direction of the human fleet. While it has just begun, it appears they aren’t headed here at all, but if they complete the adjustment their trajectory will take them to Tuk (the name the Gath applied to Alpha 2)."
Gath-1 paused while the impact of his statement set in, the council members murmuring among themselves, glancing apprehensively at Gath-1, "and most of the Tuk fleet is either here already, or on its way, leaving Tuk stripped of most of its air defense.“
One of the senior members of the council, who had previously been made aware of the course change, responded defensively, "how were we to know? All the data said they were headed here. How were we to know they would skirt our sun and almost destroy themselves to alter course? Perhaps they will; they still haven’t completed the operation.”
“But in any case we must order an immediately return of the Tuk fleet," he continued, before stopping short under Gath 1's withering glare.
"Oh," commented Gath-1 quietly, “do you really think we can count on the humans having made such an error that they would destroy themselves by flying too close to the star? And how long do you think it would take for the ships from Tuk to alter course, develop return velocity, and then return to Tuk? And how long for the ships that are here now to get to Tuk? I'll tell you how long; six to nine months. The humans will arrive in a little over two months to a Tuk stripped of over half its air defense.”
“No," he said, "it is pointless to order a return or send the home fleet. Better to let the Tuk fleet finish its trip here and prepare a larger, better prepared fleet to send back to Tuk. We have to accept that by the time relief could arrive our people on Tuk will either have won or lost on their own."
One of the council members commented, "they may drive the human fleet off; they’re hardly defenseless. Even with the ships diverted to Gath they still have well over a thousand still on Tuk or its moon. And our troops number over fifty thousand and have strong defensive positions."
"True," Gath-1 responded sarcastically, "but remember, due to your errors, Tuk has little time to prepare. In any case, they’re on their own. We can't get them help before the humans arrive. We have to base our plan on the assumption the humans may prevail on Tuk; it is the only safe alternative."
Looking around, "we have to plan a major expedition, much larger and better prepared that the one of years ago; and assume it will be a heavily defended Tuk we have to reconquer; not like before, an attack against an undefended or lightly defended planet."
After stopping to listen to several minutes of back and forth discussion among the council members, Gath-1 hit the table with his heavy fist, bringing silence, "the path is clear, now we need to prepare. How long before we are ready? How big must the expedition be? When - when - when and how big and how much?"
Then, looking around the table, "prepare the plans and notify me when the outline is there; fast. And," he said, sarcastically, to the departing Gath, "make sure Tuk is notified that they are the target. Try to at least get that right.”
After a long pause while he looked around the room, Gath-1 said quietly, “and have no doubt this will lead to demotions or loss of caste to any that fail this time; no political connections or pleas will save them. Perhaps,” he added, “before this is over some of you may be laboring in the lichen fields.”
As the council filed out of the room Gath-1 motioned to the one that had been seated nearest to him, Gath-3, to stay, "send for your analysts. I want to hear an update on what we have learned about the human fleet."
Gath-3 left the room, and returned several minutes later with several other Gath following. Gath-1 motioned to start, and one of the Gath began.
"The human ships are larger than anything we have, or have ever seen. There are 15 of them. The number of humans involved must be very large, perhaps numbering in the hundreds of thousands. We haven't seen smaller ships, like our fighting ships, so if they have them they must be stored aboard the large ships. However we have little reason to believe these new ships, in spite of their much larger size, are a match for our latest designs. But if they have smaller ships on board that may be different."
"Next," the Gath continued, "the humans themselves are very fragile. It is questionable whether they could operate effectively under the gravity we have here on Gath."
Gath-1 stopped him, and glared at Gath-3, "if they are so fragile, and there was ever doubt they could sustain themselves in Gath's gravity, why wasn't this factored into the analysis when you told the council they were headed for Gath? Surely you could have predicted this change in course? Or at least the possibility, so that we wouldn't have stripped Tuk's defenses?"
Gath-3 sat with his head lowered, "they were headed for Gath. How could we predict they would change? Our figures showed for such a change they would have to enter the corona itself, destroying themselves."
"Stop," Gath-1 roared. "This is nonsense. Their leading ships are now ‘inside’ the corona, and there is no indication they are facing destruction. Further, we will be fighting on Tuk, not Beta 3, and the humans are used to that gravity. It is us who are not!"
Gath-3 attempted to say something, but Gath-1 snorted in contempt, and motioned the speaker to continue. Finally there was little more to say.
Weeks later, the Protean Archipelago . . . .
Saul Weiner rubbed his eyes and put the book down. The headquarters building was silent, except for the low music coming from his player. Looking at his watch the dial showed a few minutes after 2 AM.
"Time for rounds," Saul said to himself, pushing himself to his feet and picking up his flashlight. As the only headquarters on-duty person at this time of the night one of his duties was to check all the rooms and offices at least once every two hours. Walking down the silent, nearly dark hallway of the subterranean headquarters, his steps echoed hollowly as he walked, checking doors as he went.
Stopping, he cocked his head and listened; he could distinctly hear a muffled 'beep beep' from the end of the hall. It appeared to be coming from the equipment room at the end of the hall, but that didn't make sense. The only use the room had was for old equipment that had either failed or been mothballed years before. Of course, there was some monitoring gear in the room for the former link to their o
utpost on Dominica, but they hadn't received a message from them in months, and the equipment had been pushed into a corner to make room for general storage. He wasn’t even sure if it was still connected.
Walking cautiously down the hall holding his flashlight in front on him Saul stopped at the door to the equipment room, listened, and then opened the door. The 'beep beep' was louder here, clearly coming from inside the room. Flicking on the overhead light the room was empty.
The sound seemed to be coming from the Dominica receiver in the corner of the room. That was curious, but maybe Dominica had succeeded in repairing its transmitter. Walking to that corner he noticed the screen was lit, and it was from that console that the 'beeping' sound was coming. He stopped and stared as he saw the two-word statement flashing on the screen - - 'message received'. When he keyed in the message request, the message appeared on the screen.
A short distance away . . . .
The trees waved gently in the breeze, the sun warm on his shoulders. He stood on a hilltop looking down toward the valley below. Further down the valley a group of cattle grazed undisturbed. Suddenly he was there, walking among the cattle, many more than there had appeared to be. The field was crowded with cattle, making it hard to make progress. But for some reason he had to get to the woods on the other side of the field, it was very important. Then the cattle seemed to surge against him, buffeting him from side to side. It was becoming increasingly difficult to stay on his feet, and he was in fear of falling under the hoofs of the cattle. Opening his eyes it wasn't cattle buffeting him, but Annette shaking him awake, with a "Kevin, Kevin, wake up!"
Not fully awake, Kevin looked blankly for several moments before his eyes were able to focus.
"What?" he asked, "what is it?"
"Some kind of emergency at headquarters," Annette said, "Lopez just called. He said to get there as fast as you can."
The Final Act: Book III: The Settlement Chronicals Page 3