Last Stand

by Jeffrey M. Fortney

  “Thisss…wasss my homeworld…Admiral,” said Tal’r. “Citiesss were destroyed…my people were ssslaughtered. Those that…sssurvived on our…planet…are now slavesss mining…or harvesting our…metalsss, cropsss, and…other resources…for the…Azairi.”

  “Commander Tal’r,” Umeko Shimizu began, “perhaps it would be best if we speak further in person. My vessels will rendezvous with yours in 30 minutes. My communications officer with provide you with a time hack to familiarize you with our measurements of time. In the meantime, I ask that you speak with your fellow commanders. I invite you and your companions to my vessel.”

  “Thank you…Admiral…,” Tal’r responded. “We ssshall…meet with…you sssoon.”

  Thirty minutes later, the Kenshin and two frigates slid into position near Commander Tal’r’s vessel. The alien fleet greeted them with peaceful overtures. Soon, a single small shuttle craft left each of the alien vessels and flew over to the star carrier where they were invited into one of the giant vessel’s landing bays.

  Tal’r and his comrades were escorted from the landing bay to Admiral Shimizu’s briefing room by Fleet Security personnel. The admiral welcomed the delegates to her vessel, introduced herself and her officers, then invited them to take seats around the table in the center of the room. During the course of their discussions, Tal’r and his friends showed Shimizu and the other Terran officers a series of holographic records of other Azairi attacks upon their homeworlds. According to Tal’r’s records, the vessel that had attacked the Drake was the Azairi’s equivalent of a scout ship! When asked by the admiral where those homeworlds were located, Tal’r used his holographic projector to display star maps showing their locations. Admiral Shimizu’s science officer scanned the maps and began correlating them with maps within the Terran databases.

  The initial meeting ended two hours later and the alien delegates returned to their ships. After a hasty meal, Admiral Shimizu and her senior officers reconvened and began to analyze the data they had received from their new friends. And friends they were, the Terrans thought. At least in a “The enemy of my enemy is my friend” sort of way to begin with.

  After four and a half hours, the admiral adjourned the meeting. She went to the private office attached to her quarters and prepared her report to Fleet Headquarters. Only after it was complete, encoded, and sent via QC did the admiral eat a late, light meal and retire for the evening.

  The following morning, ship’s time, Admiral Shimizu was up early going through her morning exercise routine when the comm-unit in her cabin buzzed. When the admiral interrupted her exercises to answer, the communications officer forwarded a reply message packet to her screen. Shimizu read the message carefully then read it again.

  The Admiralty wanted to speak directly with Tal’r and his friends, so Shimizu was ordered to detach her two frigates to escort the alien fleet to Earth. The remainder of Task Force Drake was to proceed to the last known position of the Sir Frances Drake and covertly investigate the ships disappearance. Under no circumstances was Shimizu to engage the Azairi. Her orders were to see if there were any survivors of the Drake and rescue them, if possible. If there were no survivors or if it was impossible to rescue them, Task Force Drake was to return to Earth with all due haste.

  The data from Tal’r’s fleet indicated that the Azairi would reach the Terran Solar System within the next 12 to 15 months.

  Chapter 2

  Ship's Log

  Terran Federation Defense Fleet Cruiser Europa

  Earthdate: 03 October 2230

  Captain Kwame Dua, Commanding

  The Azairi have been hunting us and the other vessels in our task force relentlessly. They keep advancing and we must keep falling back. Their vessels are just too powerful.

  My crew has performed in an exemplary manner. I can’t be any more proud of them than I am now. We’ve conducted hit and run attacks against the Azairi for the past week. The Europa has sustained significant damage and we’ve taken quite a few casualties. Still, my crew fights on. They know that we are part of the thin line that stands between the Azairi and the remainder of the Terran Federation.

  I am resigned to the fact that we will most likely not return from this mission. I just hope that my ship, my crew, and I will make a difference in the battle or battles ahead.

  The blaring of the Red Alert klaxon woke Lieutenant Commander Jarrod Caulder from his much needed sleep. Caulder had been on duty for more than 43 hours when the Europa’s captain had ordered Caulder to go to his quarters and get some sleep. Caulder had barely hit his bunk before he had dropped into a restless sleep. And now, far too soon, he was being awakened again!

  “Red Alert! Red Alert!” said the voice of the ship’s computer over the speaker in Caulder’s quarters. “All personnel to battle stations! Repeat…all personnel to battle stations!” The young lieutenant commander rolled from his bunk, gathered his comm-unit from its charger, and raced out of his quarters. He didn’t have to don his uniform or boots…he’d slept in them!

  Caulder knew the ship’s elevators would be packed with personnel moving throughout the ship, so he ran to an access hatch in a side corridor near his quarters. The hatch opened into a maintenance shaft that lead directly to the bridge three decks up! The access ladder provided exercise for his stiff, tired muscles. A moment later, he stepped through a hatch located on the port side of the bridge.

  Captain Kwame Dua, the commanding officer of the TFDC Europa, nodded to Caulder as he moved towards the Operations console on the starboard side of the bridge. “You do find the most interesting ways of making an appearance, Mr. Caulder,” said the captain with a wry smile.

  “Thank you, sir! All Ops stations crewed and ready for action, sir!” reported Caulder.

  “Very good, Mr. Caulder,” Captain Dua responded. “The Azairi have located us before the remainder of the fleet has arrived.” The tactical monitors showed a small fleet of Azairi vessels, ten in all, closing rapidly on the Terran task force of which the Europa was a part. Eleven Terran vessels against five Azairi ships was definitely not a fair fight. The Azairi had too much of an advantage!

  The war against the Azairi was not going well. In little more than two years since the Sir Francis Drake incident, the Azairi had reached the Terran Federation and captured most of the Terran colonies as well as the homeworld! The information the Terrans had been able to gather about the Azairi was quite limited. And what little they had learned was from the other races that traveled through Terran space to flee the enemy.

  The Azairi homeworld was apparently an ancient world orbiting a dying star which led them to move out into space to acquire more resources. The Azairi themselves were an insectoid race, resembling Terran ants, except on a much larger scale. Their segmented bodies were composed of hard carapaces and had six limbs, three on a side. They could walk on four legs while using the two forward limbs with rudimentary digits to perform a wide variety of complex tasks. They came in different sizes based up their caste and function within the Azairi race. Smaller Azairi served as scientists, engineers, and pilots. The warrior caste was composed of two types: one winged and one wingless. Both types were larger than humans and were far more aggressive. Like army ants, they gathered resources of all types from wherever they landed and returned those to their nearest hive…usually one of their enormous space carriers. On conquered worlds, some unfortunate individuals were retained as slave labor for resource gathering efforts. Others far less fortunate became just another source of food for the Azairi warriors.

  The Terran Federation Defense Fleet had inflicted some measure of damage upon the invading forces, but were continually outnumbered and outgunned. Time after time, the Terrans had been forced to fall back, losing larger and larger amounts of space to the Azairi. Only a few colony worlds on the far side of the Terran Federation still remained under Terran control. The Federation’s remaining government and military headquarters had been moved to a distant system.

  The Europa was
one of three star cruisers in Task Force Shimizu. The remainder of the Terran vessels consisted of two carriers, three destroyers, six frigates, and a mine layer. Admiral Umeko Shimizu looked at her tactical monitors aboard her flagship and cursed under her breath. As far as she knew, her task force was all that remained of the Terran Federation’s Defense Fleet. When they fell, the Azairi would continue to spread along this arm of the galactic spiral and the remaining Terran colonies would be left defenseless.

  The TFDF had won some of the battles, but was losing the war. The Azairi vessels, while slower than Terran vessels, were quite large, carried massive power systems and plasma beam weapons, and were virtually invulnerable to the Terran weapon systems. Only when an Azairi task force was heavily outnumbered did the Terran vessels stand a chance.

  For the past week, Task Force Shimizu had been conducting hit and run attacks upon a smaller Azairi force, moving from system to system. The Azairi had started the engagement with 14 ships; the Terrans had had 24! Admiral Shimizu was determined to win the prolonged battle or die trying.

  The simple fact was that Task Force Shimizu was virtually all that remained of the once great Terran Federation Defense Fleet. Oh, there were still a few small vessels in some of the outer colonies on the far side of the Terran Federation; but Shimizu’s task force appeared to be the Terran Federation’s last line of defense. The admiral and her captains had discussed a retreat to the outer colonies in an attempt to regroup and perhaps seek assistance from other worlds beyond. Then they crossed paths with this fleet of Azairi vessels.

  The engagement had not gone as anticipated! When Shimizu had finally ordered her remaining ships to break off and regroup in the next system, the Azairi quickly followed and continued to press their attack upon the humans. Each of the Terran vessels was damaged in some manner and casualties were high aboard each vessel. The survivors were working heel-to-toe watches, four hours on followed by four hours to rest or eat. Of course, the Terrans got little rest as they were frequently interrupted by Azairi attacks.

  Caulder scanned his tactical monitors then turned to his captain. “Sir, we’re still showing a flux in our port aft shield and two of our forward launch tubes are giving intermittent power readings.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Caulder,” Captain Dua replied. “Commander Huntington-Smythe, what are your repair estimates on those items, please?” This last part was sent via the ship’s intercom to the chief engineer’s location somewhere within the vessel.

  Ian Abercrombie Huntington-Smythe was tall, dapper, and veddy, veddy British. While Captain Dua preferred his chief engineer to be on the bridge to coordinate his personnel and their efforts, Huntington-Smythe was often in the thick of any maintenance problem. Not because he distrusted his personnel, but because one more hand often made the difference between success and failure.

  The engineer’s voice came from the speakers positioned around the rim of the bridge’s ceiling. “Captain, my mates will have the shield flux unbolluxed in just mite longer. Tube 1 is coming back online right now and Tube 2 shan’t be a problem if the lads and lasses can just tweak the bloody power adjustment.”

  “Carry on then, Commander,” answered Dua. He turned to the Flight Control console. “Pilot, Navigator, your statuses please?”

  Lieutenant Commander Dominic Clarke, the vessel’s senior pilot, answered first. “Sir, Europa’s drive systems and directional controls are at one hundred percent across the board. Awaiting your orders, sir!” Clarke was Jamaican, tall, dark, and very British in his speech and mannerisms. As Clarke was known to say, ‘seventh generation military, don’t you know!’

  The navigator, Lieutenant Maria Esteban-Smith, responded next. “Captain, Navigation is ready at your command. All navigational referents verified and nav computer is tracking.” Esteban-Smith was not just a navigational genius, it turned out she was also a distant cousin to the ship’s chief engineer, all because a young member of the Huntington-Smythe family immigrated to the Southwestern United States back in the 1860s. The engineer and navigator carried on a good-natured argument about being “shirttail relatives” much to the delight of the rest of the crew.

  Lieutenant Commander Muhammed Hussein Al-Qhatani, Europa’s chief security officer, stepped onto the bridge. He had been on an inspection tour of security systems at the far end of the ship when the Red Alert was called. “Ship is secure, captain,” he reported succinctly.

  Commander Lisl Kepler, Europa’s first officer, took that moment to make her report. She had been scanning status reports on monitors around the bridge. “Sir, Europa stands ready!”

  Captain Dua tensed slightly in his chair. “Very well then! Communications, please put me through to the admiral.” A moment later, the comm officer signaled the captain. “Admiral Shimizu, Europa is standing by for your orders!” Dua said.

  Admiral Shimizu’s voice came from the speakers overhead, “Thank you, Captain! I am transmitting your orders now! Shimizu, out!”

  Kwame Dua activated the small screen on the right arm of his command chair and carefully reviewed the short list of orders displayed there. He pursed his lips and let out a soft whistle, then tapped out some commands on the keypad below the screen. Dua had just relayed the Europa’s assignment and his specific orders to his bridge officers.

  “Commander Kepler, is the Europa ready for battle?” the captain asked his first officer, knowing that he’d just received a round of updates the moment before. He needed the verification that his vessel and crew were indeed ready to fight.

  Kepler understood the captain’s real question. She scanned her status boards one more time then replied, “Aye sir! Europa is ready for battle!” The bridge crew tensed.

  “Very well then, signal the admiral with our status and prepare to engage the enemy!” Captain Dua said. The comm officer sent the signal to Admiral Shimizu’s flagship, the Kenshin, while the other bridge officers turned to their duties.

  Admiral Shimizu appeared on the primary communications monitor. “Task Force Shimizu, may the Gods smile upon us this day! Engage!” Her image vanished and Dua nodded to the Lieutenant Commander Dominic Clarke. The pilot’s hands flew across his console and the vast energies of the Europa’s faster than light engines engaged.

  Dua checked the tactical monitor and discerned that his vessel was holding formation with the other vessels of Admiral Shimizu’s task force. Another part of the screen displayed the projected course toward the location of the Azairi task force. A timer counted down the time remaining until the Terran vessels were to emerge within ten miles of their opponents.

  Captain Dua opened an intercom channel throughout the Europa. “Attention all personnel! This is the captain. I know we have been under great stress for the past week. We have been victorious in battle against the Azairi before…and we shall be victorious once again. Remain strong, focus on your duties, and good hunting! Dua…out!”

  Commander Kepler looked up from her console then called out, “Engagement in ten seconds…seven seconds…five seconds…three seconds…one…NOW!” The Europa dropped from FTL back into normal space. There, only a few miles ahead of the Terran task force, lay the Azairi vessels. Suddenly, plasma beam and missiles flashed out from ships of both fleets.

  Dua tapped the image of an enemy vessel on his armrest display. The “ship” he touched was suddenly highlighted on the tactical monitor mounted on the forward bulkhead. “That frigate…that’s our target, ladies and gentlemen! Target all beams, missiles, and kinetic kill weapons on the forward shield of that ship!”

  “Captain, beams and missiles away! Kinetic kill rail guns powering up!” Kepler reported over the noise of the Europa’s power and weapons systems unleashing massive amounts of energy upon the enemy ships. “Rail guns firing!”

  The Europa was equipped with four electromagnetically fired rail guns that ran two-thirds the length of the ship. These guns used phased arrays of magnets to accelerate tungsten steel rods to hypersonic speeds within milli-seconds. Each rod was t
hree feet thick and 50 feet long and, in the vacuum of space where there was no wind resistance to slow them down, each released the kinetic energy of a small nuclear weapon upon impact with its target.

  The four rods shot from the bow of the Europa and a split second later struck the forward shield of an Azairi frigate. That particular shield had been the target of the Europa’s first volley of particle beams and missiles. Already weakened, it offered only minimal resistance to the four tungsten steel rods. Only the forward and outermost layers of each rod was sacrificed in piercing the shield.

  The remaining bulk of the four rods slammed into the bow of the Azairi vessel releasing their energy virtually simultaneously. The bow of the ship ruptured and the expanding ball of energy was forced deeper into the vessel. Two weapons system power reactors in the bow of the Azairi vessel were critically damaged, exploding and merging their energies with those of the Terran kinetic kill devices creating a cascading reaction throughout the Azairi frigate.

  “Mr. Clarke, bring us to bear on the next vessel please,” Captain Dua ordered. The Europa began to alter course and was suddenly rocked as an Azairi missile struck the ship’s port aft shield. Its nuclear warhead detonated, momentarily overloading the Europa’s shield at the point of impact. “Bridge, Damage Control! That was a close one. Minimal radiation but we do have hull breaches along the port side, bulkheads 177 through 202. Damage control personnel on the job!” reported Lt. Josef Kuznetsov. “Medics are moving the severely injured to the med-bay now!”

  Kuznetsov did not tell the captain that he was injured himself. The damage control officer wore the armored space suit commonly used by damage control personnel aboard TFDF vessels. When the warhead exploded against the Europa’s shield, Kuznetsov had been thrown into a console, catching an edge of the console against the left side of his rib cage. His suit provided some protection and did not breach but Kuznetsov could feel that he had a couple of broken ribs.