ARMS For Eternity: (Book 8)

by Stephen Arseneault

  Tawn looked at the time on her arm pad as the Bangor came to a stop. "They should be in the cave by now."

  Harris gestured toward the nav display. "The fighting has certainly slowed since we've been gone. The Crissen are down another two hundred ships and the others a couple thousand each. Doesn't look like either side is fully committed at the moment. At this rate it could take six months."

  "Six months still works for us if our people on Domicile are left alone."

  The minor chit-chat continued as the pace of the fighting slowed further. An hour after the Bangor's return, the Crissen disengaged fully.

  A general comm was opened. "Frizoid and Burrell, I offer you this one opportunity to gather your forces to leave. Save the lives of your soldiers. This squabble is a needless waste of our valued resources."

  A Frizoid admiral replied: "And why would we contemplate doing such? Given current loss rates, it would appear we have the advantage here, even if only slightly so. We will give you the same opportunity. Turn and leave this space and we will not pursue."

  Klof paced back and forth in front of his camera. "It would appear we are at an impasse. Each side believes they have the upper hand. However, there is an immense difference between what you hope to be true and what I know to be true. Again, I give you this single opportunity to withdraw. Perhaps we will still fight again later, an opportunity I relish, but we each have priorities. I intend to not only take this sector, but to hold it."

  "Your words are not convincing," the Frizoid admiral replied. "Perhaps if said with more conviction?"

  The Burrell commander nodded. "The momentum is turning against you, Monumon."

  A horde of wormholes opened, showing another twenty thousand Burrell warships. As the ships moved through, the wormholes collapsed, cutting off three quarters of the extended fleet.

  Tawn grabbed Harris by the arm. "Get that! Our bots just knocked the boson field out. Look. Nothing at all on the sensors. What monumental timing."

  "Not like they won't be here in a couple hours with the hop-drives."

  "True, but what a way to steal the Burrells’ thunder. That has to be more than a bit embarrassing."

  "Still doesn't matter."

  An encrypted data burst came in. Tawn passed it through decode.

  "This is Banshee 124456. I've just come from the Crissen lane running toward Maufree. Fifteen thousand four hundred Crissen ships will arrive within the hour."

  Tawn said, "That has to be Klof's brother. Those twenty thousand Burrell ships won't mean much."

  "Now the offer makes sense. A lot cleaner if you can bully them into leaving without sacrificing all those people and assets. Would probably score points with his brother too, since he wouldn't have to fight."

  "If Klof's brother is anything like him, he'd want the fight."

  "I get that feeling too."

  Knowing support was on the way, the Frizoid and Burrell fleets reengaged. The fighting was as fierce as had first been seen. Thirty-eight minutes later, more than fifteen thousand wormholes opened at once. The older Monumon brother's fleet raced to join the fight. The sudden boldness of the Frizoid and Burrell quickly faded, but the fleets fought on.

  Trios of Frizoid ships would race toward a Crissen ship only to be pummeled before inflicting modest damage. The set that followed attempted to exploit the work done by the first "sacrificial" trio. The kill ratio had been reduced from the beginning ten-to-one, but eight-to-one was not sufficient for a victory. Half that rate was needed for a shot at triumph.

  An hour later, just over fifteen thousand fresh Burrell warships entered the fray. A renewed feeling of hope ran through the fleets of the defenders for most of the next few hours, but the casualty rates remained the same. The Monumon brothers were slowly solidifying their winning hand.

  Tawn shook her head. "What a spectacle. Never imagined seeing fleets this size crashing together. It's just a constant fire-show of death and destruction."

  Harris rubbed his chin. "Was just thinking of how we might even the odds a bit."

  "You want in on this carnage?"

  "Not that, no. But we do want to see both sides taken down until the minimum number of ships is left to the victor."

  "You know if we get involved we're making a permanent enemy of the Crissen, right? Humans will forever be despised."

  "That makes me hesitant for what I'm about to suggest."

  "Spit it out. You won't make any enemies here."

  "We have what, fifty-five thousand gamma missiles? What if we sacrifice a third on the Crissen. We usually get a two-or-three-for-one out of those. And the Crissen have yet to see them. We knock them back by ten thousand ships and this fight becomes dead even. And that's with the latest Burrell ships."

  Tawn stood and began to walk the cabin. "What if we wait a day?"

  "We might end up having to use more of our missiles. I'd like to keep as many as we could, even once this fight is completely over. More ships will come from one side or the other. We'll need more missiles when that happens. It's really our only useful weapon."

  Tawn stopped her pacing, dropping her forearms onto the back of her chair as she leaned forward. "I want to say no, but I agree with you. The action we take now should help us keep higher reserves for later. It will take us several hours to go home and come back. I doubt this fight will have changed much by then."

  "Agreed."

  The Bangor quietly moved out to where a wormhole could be opened without worry of detection. Ninety-six minutes later, after exiting the former boson space, they slowed as they came in for a landing at Gianus. A quick meeting was called.

  Harris paced as he told of his idea. "...and that's what we came back for. Input?"

  Trish said, "Hammer 'em. You gave them info as a gesture of good will. Klof pretty much laughed at you. Show him why it's not good to be an enemy of the Humans."

  "That's part of the problem. If the Crissen win, what's to stop them from just annihilating everyone on Domicile? We can't defend them. Will doing this doom our people?"

  Alex said, "Not doing this dooms our people. If we're useful as slaves now, we'll be useful then. From watching the recordings of your prior meet with this Monumon, it looks as though he's profit driven. That fleet out there must have cost his family a fortune to build. Does destroying assets you just captured make financial sense?"

  "No it doesn't. But I'm not concerned with what makes financial sense. I'm concerned that he might feel the need to enact retribution."

  "I don't think that's an issue. He'll need capital to replenish his fleet. This war with the Burrell and Frizoid is only beginning. If the Crissen want to expand, which it appears they do, they need capital. Live Humans help with that. Dead Humans are only good as fertilizer."

  The discussion ended after a short fifteen minutes. The decision was made to bring out four thousand Banshees equipped with five gamma missiles each. The order went out and the fleet assembled, awaiting the Bangor's lead.

  As Tawn and Harris lifted off, Harris turned. "I wonder if the Frizoid and Burrell could be bargained with?"

  "You think they'd be willing to give concessions for our help? Remember, the Frizoid pretty much ignored our last deal."

  "They were using us. We knew it, but didn't want to admit it. There was no good reason for them to give us freedom. That was all done to give us motivation to fight harder."

  "Still. Maybe we can get something more reasonable from them. Like to give us back Midelon, or even better now, New Earth."

  Harris chuckled. "I think you're dreaming with both of those. First, they'd know those are valuable to us, so they'd use them against us the first chance they get…"

  "And second?"

  "Well, wasn't actually gonna throw out a second. The first should be enough."

  "Got it. And I agree anyway. What about a supply drop?"

  "Food as MREs? Wouldn't take much to give us another six months’ worth."

  "That's a good possibility, but I'd like to see m
ore than that. We are offering a chance at victory here. A few hundred cases of MREs hardly seems like a sensible negotiation."

  "What do we need as far as construction?"

  "Steel for the masts. We get that as bulk steel and we can form it. They don't need to know its use. And it wouldn't take a tremendous amount to fulfill our needs. That would make the entire fleet capable of using our new hop-drives."

  "I like it. That takes care of our immediate needs. And a hundred cases of MREs would give us more than a year's worth of food. Let's go with double that since we're asking."

  "Sold."

  When the Bangor arrived back in its former location, the fighting had stopped. The fleet of four thousand Banshees sat back at an undetectable distance.

  Tawn scowled. "Well, this is just great."

  "They have a comm open."

  The three images again flashed up on the display. The Burrell commander was speaking: "We would be willing to rebuild and operate the facility at Midelon providing unlimited jumps in this space... for a generous annual fee of course."

  The Frizoid admiral returned a look of disdain. "You would make a deal with these interlopers? This is our space to govern. Those are our profits and fees to be had. Allowing the Crissen to take control of this space weakens both of our positions. You have to see that. Are they not in possession of one of your worlds right now? Do they not threaten the Burrell?"

  "War with the Crissen would be expensive for us all. This space belongs to the Burrell. It is not a territory of the Frizoid. Any such claim by you is in opposition to our own claim of ownership. Take this offer. Go back to Frizoid space and exist in peace. Do you not see this could be the end of our wars against one another?"

  "The end of our wars? Are you blind? You believe the Crissen will honor any pledge made here today? They attacked this space unprovoked. The Burrell and Frizoid have been enemies for eons. We know each other, even if only through war. Our agreement here was a real breakthrough for both our empires. If you toss that agreement away now, you will have war on two fronts, the Frizoid and the Crissen."

  Klof interjected with a smile on his face. "All bold talk from the weak party in this negotiation. The Frizoid are frustrated because they will be sent home without a trophy. Commander, what if I were to throw in a return of your base to sweeten the deal? That would put our prior territorial maps back to where they were before your treacherous attack on Maufree. We would call this deal a sort of payoff for your transgression and our retaliation. We both win. The Frizoid lose. I might even be willing to throw in a split on mining rights."

  "This is preposterous!" the Frizoid admiral protested. "The deal you make here would be your ruin!"

  Tawn said, "Look at that Crissen fleet, sitting there all still and in tight formation. We launch our attack while they're bunched up like that and we easily take out three quarters of their ships."

  "I was thinking the same."

  A burst communication came in from a Banshee scout. "Fifty-seven thousand Frizoid ships are two days away."

  Tawn tilted her head to one side. "Now we know why they've continued to fight against the losing odds."

  "And why they're so eager to keep the Burrell on their side. I now have to think the Burrell may have another fleet on the way too."

  Tawn shuffled in her chair. "Now we're stuck again. We hit the Crissen now and we shift the balance way back in favor of the others."

  "If we don't, we lose a prime opportunity, and they might just finalize their deal, leaving us to still have to fight two empires."

  "Should we compromise?"

  "How so?"

  Tawn chuckled. "Slam them with half the missiles we brought. We cut their numbers in half and the Frizoid would be forced to show their hand. They would announce that new fleet coming, giving the Burrell reason to once again fight by their side."

  Harris slowly shook his head. "This is so messed up. How do we know we're making the right choice?"

  Tawn laughed. "When have we ever known that?"

  Harris let out a breath, followed by several seconds of silence. "OK… let's do this. Half the Banshees. Let's see if we can knock out ten thousand Crissen warships."

  Tawn cinched up her lap belt. "You know we have to follow those missiles most of the way in if we want that interference emitter to work, right?"

  Harris snugged up his belt. "Yep."

  Harris turned and then turned back. "Hmm, that just doesn't seem right."

  "What are you looking for?"

  "My dog. He should be here to offer his sage advice. I wanted to tell him to attach himself to something. Forgot we left him behind. I have to wonder what his counsel would have been on all this?"

  "Yeah, can't believe I'm saying this, but I actually miss him being here. Makes being stuck here with you that much more boring."

  Harris chuckled. "That remark right back at ya."

  — Chapter 18 —

  * * *

  The order was blasted in the direction of the Banshee fleet. Half moved forward as the Bangor headed out to meet them. As they rendezvoused, Tawn flipped the interference emitter to full.

  The admirals on the general comm reacted as the interference signal diminished the effectiveness of their sensors.

  Klof Monumon protested. "What is the meaning of this?"

  The Burrell commander replied, "We've seen this before, when the Human fleet attacked us. Watch for incoming missiles."

  Ten thousand bright points of light signaled the detonation of the gamma ray warheads. The Crissen ships had no time to react. Of the more than twenty-six thousand that sat ready for battle, nine thousand took primary hits, another five thousand secondary, and another three thousand partial.

  The majority of damage was taken by the ships belonging to Willen Monumon, including his command ship. Repeated hails by Klof to his older brother went unanswered.

  "What is this? What has happened?"

  The Burrell commander sighed as he turned back to speak to the Frizoid admiral. "Sir, you have my apologies. I was merely looking out for what I believed at the time to be my people's best interests. I hope we can put this behind us. The Crissen are now in a position that places us all on even terms."

  "Apology accepted, Commander. And to convince you that you made the right decision, I'd like to inform you we have a new fleet coming, a substantial fleet, that will arrive in two days. The Crissen will be crushed. Our empires can begin a period of reconciliation and possibly mutual defense."

  "It would be a grand day, Admiral. Grand indeed."

  The Crissen captain gripped the sides of his flat head with his small fists. "You will both pay for your crimes! No Monumon has fallen in battle in more than five hundred cycles! I will rain down revenge on the both of your fleets!"

  The Crissen ships raced forward. This time, the normal tactic of fighting from a somewhat standoffish position, letting the enemy be the aggressor, was eschewed for a full frontal assault in close proximity.

  Ships clashed, some colliding. Weapons fire was fierce and relentless. Casualty counts were high on both sides.

  Tawn grinned. "This is great. We just have to sit back and wait for the winner to emerge."

  Harris shook his head as he turned the Bangor away. "Can't do it."

  "Why? Where are we going?"

  "Pull up the data blast from that scout. Tell me if the incoming fleet is flying in a formation we can hit with our remaining missiles."

  Tawn pushed the message up to the display, swiping through the data until a visual sighting came up. "Smart."

  "What?"

  "The scout bot threw out a probe to capture the visual as the fleet passed. Never had to show itself. And the answer to your question is yes, those ships are lined up one after another and in close proximity. Probably slipping a dozen through each wormhole to save on their fuel. I'll have a firing scenario worked up for you in a couple minutes."

  Tawn snickered.

  "What's so funny?"

  "This is
gonna be spectacular. I can't say any more than that. Just prepare yourself to be wowed."

  The Bangor came to a stop five minutes in front of the approaching fleet. Seven hundred of the remaining ten thousand gamma missiles were deployed, moving into a formation before coming to a stop.

  Tawn nodded. "Perfect. Take us back about half a million kilometers."

  "You're leaving the missiles there?"

  "I am. And they are going to come right to them. Please just take us back like I said. Oh, and once you see the result here, we need to hurry home."

  Harris made a short jump to the distance Tawn had asked. "Home? What for?"

  "To park our excess missiles and to get bot crews. If this goes right, we might be claiming fifty-five thousand Frizoid ships as our own."

  Harris began to chuckle at the thought. As Tawn joined in, the chuckles turned into all-out laughs.

  After several seconds, Harris coughed and brought himself back under control. "OK, the thought of pulling that off was kind of maniacal."

  Tawn sucked in a deep breath. "Then consider us maniacs. A fleet that size would totally put us back in this game. We could take back Domicile, and Midelon, and New Earth. This whole space would be ours. With two solid months to do nothing but build missiles... no single fleet could touch us. And if we held out for six months... well... say goodbye to being anyone's slave."

  "I do like the way you think, Miss Freely."

  "OK. Quiet. Any second now."

  As planned, the Frizoid ships all slipped into the same space in unison. Seven hundred gamma ray warheads detonated at once. Fifty-five thousand Frizoid warships failed to make their next successive jump.

  Tawn raised her fists in the air and shouted. "Glory be! Glory to you and me! We just kicked major ass, Mr. Gruberg. Major ass!"

  After following the ships for several minutes, the Bangor and the two thousand Banshees with it turned for Gianus. A small celebration ensued in the cabin of the Bangor as a preplanned set of waypoints took over the nav. What would only be considered dancing by a Biomarine was followed by a celebratory set of MREs. Harris, enamored with the results of their action, chose to feast on a pair of bogler-rib meals. When finished, he sat back in his chair with a well-satisfied look on his face.