The Human Chronicles Saga : Boxset #2 (The Human Chronicles Saga Boxsets)

by T. R. Harris

  “A distraction?”

  “More of an invitation to join the fray. The Humans came here to fight Kracori, not Klin, at least not yet. We will show them a more challenging target. If they are aware of our defenseless status, then they will assume they can always return to us later. And if we can introduce them to the battlefield before the Kracori and Juireans destroy each other, then we may still find a satisfactory outcome for the Klin.”

  “Can we not create our own tunnel through the Shield, Pleabaen, just as the Humans did?”

  Velsum nodded, acknowledging the value of Linuss’ question. “Please establish a study group to investigate that question. Desperate times may require us to sacrifice part of the Colony to save the rest. Our pods are large and sturdy vessels. Perhaps to have one lead the way may open the Shield for the others. The Humans have proved it is possible to create an artificial pathway. Please expedite the study. We may have only hours to implement a strategy.”

  “I will convene the experts immediately.”

  “You are commended for your thinking, Moisee.”

  “I only hope it works and that we are not too late.”

  “The entire Colony shares your wish. Please go now.”

  Within his private thoughts, Velsum began to see horrible visions. Not of his Colony being destroyed by the Humans, but of him having to send several of his pods through the Shield to break open a path. He could see the lead ships exploding, victims of the deadly debris field that made up the Shield. How many pods would it take to push through? How many tens of thousands of Klin would have to die—all on his command—to save a few?

  He did not have an answer. All he knew was that he would try everything possible to save the Colony, at least all he could. That is, of course, unless the Humans chose to destroy it all within the next few minutes....

  “Their units are separating, Admiral,” a petty officer first-class called out from the near side of the bridge. “Three quarters are moving away at a ninety-degree vector to the others.”

  Admiral Christian Bergmann joined the petty officer at the scanner. He studied the tracks of both sections of the Klin fleet. The larger one was still hugging the edge of the Shield, while the other was heading straight in. Bergmann fingered a dial and the view on the screen expanded. There, at the point that had become known as the McCarthy Coordinates, was the planet Elision. It didn’t take a navigator plotting a course to know that the breakaway section of the Klin fleet was headed there—straight for Elision.

  “Mr. Perry, new course.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Oh-six-five, down four. Confirm.”

  “Oh-six-five, down four.”

  “Execute.”

  “Aye, sir. Oh-six-five, down four, execute.”

  Across a million miles of space, the four thousand, nine hundred, forty-eight starships of Task Force Bravo-Victor-Nine—the official designation of the Human vengeance fleet—changed course directly toward the planet Elision. Earlier, the Admiral had dispatched a dozen swift-effect ships to the region of space surrounding the stellar system of the Kracori. Until he had his first reconnaissance reports, he would keep the fleet at normal gravity speed, essentially matching that of the breakaway Klin behemoths.

  “Threat report.” Bergmann called out.

  “Negative, Admiral,” a voice answered. “We’re alone except for the bogies moving ahead of us.”

  “Time to target.”

  “Thirty-one hours at present speed,” another voice called out. “Six at flank.”

  “Very good. Set condition Yellow. I’ll be in my quarters.”

  “The Admiral has left the bridge!”

  “Shit!” Bergmann said aloud. He had not so much as kicked off his shoes before the threat assessment changed and he was called back to the bridge.

  “What do we have?”

  “A single craft just reaching the outer marker. Point of origin appears to be from the direction of Elision.”

  “A single craft?” Bergmann said. “Get Alpha-Four Squadron to GQ and send them to investigate. One ship shouldn’t cause us much harm. Authorize A-4 to go Rings-Up.”

  “Aye, aye.”

  Rings-Up was the new call-sign for the squadron of forward units to go full power with their concentrated-array gravity drives. By bringing all focusing rings online, the ships would be capable of velocities ten times or more what other craft could achieve, even in the relative clear space of the Void. Bergmann didn’t want to reveal too much of the fleet’s capabilities until absolutely necessary. Alpha-Four Squadron was only nine ships; they would be able to get in and assess the threat from this new bogie without lighting up too many screens—if any were even focused in this direction.

  Whoever’s piloting that craft will soon be in for a rude awakening, Bergmann thought. They’re about to see what a Cain Drive warship is capable of.

  “They’re not answering!” Jym called out from his station. He was near panic as he watched a series of strong gravity contacts break away from the main fleet and head their way.

  “They’re probably in scramble mode,” Admiral Tobias said. “Comm within the fleet, but nothing beyond that. They don’t want a lot of random chatter giving away their position.”

  “They will not fire upon us, not until they have us identified, will they?” Ruszel was frightened. His long, pointed ears twitched incessantly, tempting Adam to walk up to him and tie a damn rag around his knobby head.

  “They shouldn’t,” Adam said. “All the ships should have the capability of analyzing a gravity signature. Once they do that, then they’ll know we’re one of them. So everyone just stay frosty.”

  “Adam Cain, I—”

  “Calm ... stay calm!”

  “Time to contact, three minutes—no wait!” Jym said. “They have accelerated. Contact in ten seconds!”

  So as to not rush head-long into the oncoming fleet, Kaylor had backed off on the speed of the Pegasus. Still, they were traveling faster than most vessels within populated space, yet far below the velocities of the squadron of ships that invisibly streaked by them. Only on the monitors could the paths of the faster-than-light vessels be tracked, but once past, the ships circled back, covering a quarter million miles in the less than ten seconds. And then they slowed, matching the speed of the Pegasus. They were still too far away to be visible in the vastness of space, yet each one was well within the range of flash-cannon or gravity-assisted missiles.

  “I now have a broadband inquiry coming over, Adam!” Jym cried out.

  “Unknown craft: identify yourself immediately,” the very official and no-nonsense voice blasted from the speakers in the pilothouse.

  “I’ll take the comm over here,” Adam said as he slipped into the observation seat and toggled a switch.

  Adam smiled. “Captain Adam Cain, aboard the private vessel Pegasus. I’m really glad to hear your voice,” he said into the room.

  There was an inordinately long delay before a response came through the speakers. “Repeat your last. Response not understood.”

  “This is Captain Adam Cain aboard the Pegasus. Please check your grav-sig readings. We are in a concentrated-array vessel, same as you. None of the hostiles carry such a signature.”

  Again there was a long delay. “Wait one. I am patching you through to fleet command.”

  A moment later another voice came over the speakers. “This is Admiral Christian Bergmann. Please confirm your identity.”

  Andy Tobias stepped up next to Adam. “I’ll take this, Captain. Chris, I hope they have a putting green and drive simulator aboard that tub. But even with more practice, I’ll still beat you by ten strokes.”

  “Andy—you son-of-a-bitch—you guys made it!”

  “You sound surprised; just another extraction, the bread and butter of SEAL ops.”

  “Yeah, but for the young pups, not old dogs like you.”

  “Can you pass us through? It sure will be nice to see you again.”

  “As we speak, Admir
al. Follow the escorts. We’ll take you in landing bay P-2. By the way, have you seen those big motherfuckers we’re following?”

  “They’re Klin, if you haven’t already figured that out.”

  “That was our assessment, too. Get aboard, Admiral Tobias; I’m sure we have a lot to talk about. And did you get Mr. Tarazi? Any casualties?”

  “Roger on both, Chris. We lost John Tindal.”

  “Sorry to hear that. I have one of his CD’s. And the Master Chief?”

  “Safe and sound, Admiral,” Rutledge spoke up.

  They heard a laugh through the speakers. “I am so glad to hear that, Chief. Sorry about Tindal.”

  “Died doing what he loved, sir.”

  “Hur-rah.”

  “Hur-rah, sir. See you soon.”

  “Bergmann out.”

  111

  Command-Tactician Galix was on his feet, his hands clenching and unclenching. His eyes were wide and his mouth only a tiny circle in his tense, gray face. Nomar could see the huge military officer was close to physically accosting his own Langril.

  “Stand down Tactician!”

  Still Galix hovered near the desk, glaring at Nomar.

  “Galix, calm yourself. Let us hear him out.” It was Daninf pleading for reason. Nomar was relieved to see Galix break his attack-stare to glance at Daninf.

  “You do not concur with the Langril, do you?”

  “I have not heard enough of his plan to decide either way, and neither have you. Please. Back off your stance. This is the Langril of the Kracori you are stalking.”

  “I once believed that. Not now.”

  “Tactician, you must hear me out. There is logic in my argument.”

  “The Kracori do not surrender!”

  “I realize that,” Nomar said. He had removed a small laser weapon from a hidden compartment under the desk and now held it his right hand. The weapon could kill the Tactician, if it struck just the right area. Otherwise it would still cause considerable pain. Whether that would stop a Kracori warrior so incensed, he was not sure.

  Finally, Galix stepped back from the desk. He walked to a corner of the room and turned to face the two Kracori politicians. “I will listen. Yet if I feel you are acting against the well-being of the Kracori people, I will end this conspiracy immediately and suffer the consequences as they come.”

  Even though Nomar was relieved that Galix had held back his attack, what he truly regretted at the time was inviting him to the meeting in the first place. He should have revealed his plan to Daninf first and gauged his reaction before bringing in the more-excitable military officer.

  “Ludif Galix, everything I propose is for the good of the Kracori people,” Nomar said. He felt annoyed that he had to convince others as to the worthiness of his plan. In Nomar’s opinion, they had no option.

  “Your own analysis—given to me only hours ago—show how the Kracori will eventually succumb to the Human assault, even though we will survive that of the Juireans. If we do nothing, the Humans will salt the surface of Elision after killing every last one of us. The planet—our homeworld—will cease to exist as a viable location for advanced life. Nevermore will a Kracori walk upon its surface. Only by following my plan will we have a chance to survive. Do you elect extinction over the alternative?”

  “Do you not understand Legend, Langril Nomar Polimic? Without Legend there will be no survival.”

  “That is nonsense, Galix. A race of dead beings has no Legend. Legend only exists if the Kracori exist to note the Legend of their fellow beings. After we are all gone, who will record the Legend of the Kracori?”

  “Yet you propose surrender to the Juireans. We can defeat the Juireans!”

  “Yes we can, but not then the Humans.”

  “You are not even allowing us a chance, Nomar. You have assumed our defeat.”

  “It was you who initially told me of this, Galix. Do you now amend your assessment?”

  Nomar watched as the Tactician struggled internally for an answer. After a moment, Galix appeared to slump some in his posture, and he made a quick nod of his head. “No, I do not amend.”

  “So a rational assessment shows that within a few short months, the Kracori will be extinct, following the current timeline.”

  “Can we not evacuate much of the population before the Humans arrive?” Daninf said, trying to find a middle ground on which to rest their hopes.

  “And where would we go, Daninf?” Nomar asked. “We are not like the Juireans who controlled an empire with thousands of worlds from which they could find refuge.”

  “And our fleet will be depleted to such a degree that very few could even be given passage.”

  Nomar was surprised—and relieved—to hear Galix offer his input. His initial shock and anger had passed; now he had only his logical, professional mind to cope with the reality of the situation.

  “Tactician Galix,” Nomar began, “you must realize that the term surrender is used here as merely a placeholder for a more complicated relationship I hope to broker with the Juireans. I have many approaches to take, and all of them offer us a better future than doing nothing at all.”

  “I wish to accompany you to meet the Juireans,” Daninf stated firmly.

  “I, too,” said Galix.

  “I will take Daninf, but not you, Galix. You are our supreme military commander. I wish us to appear completely at the mercy of the Juireans and offer myself as security for the confab. If the meeting goes badly, then you, Galix, will have to carry out our defeat of the Juireans, and then do what you can against the Humans. You are too valuable to risk on this overture.”

  “And the Langril of the Kracori is not?”

  “I am a political figure, Tactician. I talk; you fight.”

  Nomar turned to his friend and mentor. “You may amend your offer, my Ludif. There will be no shame.”

  Daninf smiled, a weak, almost forlorn smile. “I am old, Nomar. I have one last campaign ahead of me. This will be for the survival of our race. I do not wish to amend.”

  “Good. It is agreed. Now we must get to the ship. The meeting of our two forces is only hours away. If we are to prevent this, we must go now.”

  112

  Command-Overlord Enulic stared unbelieving at the messenger before him.

  The campaign had been long and hard, and the prospect of losing his entire force—including his own life—was weighing on his mind. Yet was he also beginning to hear things that had not been said?

  “Repeat the message,” he said slowly.

  “It is from Nomar Polimic, the Langril—leader of the Kracori people.”

  “I know what the Langril is. Continue.”

  “He reports that he is in a ship heading for the fleet. He desires a meeting with you. He comes alone, except for a creature called Daninf, who has been identified as the prior Langril.”

  “So I am to believe that the leader of the Kracori is coming to us ... unescorted.”

  “That is the message, my Lord. He requests docking instructions—”

  “No! He is not to bring a vessel near the flagship. Order him to a point midway between our forces. I will send a Juirean ship to bring him. Relay that message and then bring me his reply.”

  Enulic fingered a control on his comm band. “Yes, Lord Enulic.”

  “My Lord, I have just had the most extraordinary communication relayed to me.”

  “The content?”

  “It is from Langril Nomar Polimic. He is wishing a meeting with the fleet commander.”

  “Do you have the channel?”

  “He requests it in person, my Lord. He is presently in a spaceship nearing the fleet.”

  There was silence on the comm for a moment before Wydor spoke again. “Have precautions been taken?”

  “If he accepts them, I will have a Juirean shuttle bring him to the UN-567.”

  “When is this meeting to take place?”

  The messenger approached Enulic again. “Please wait, my Lord. I have a reply.
” The Overlord read over the message quickly. “He agrees to the shuttle, my Lord. He will be here in an hour.”

  “Bring him to the Ornate Room. Oh, and Lord Enulic, have the passage corridors cleared of all personnel except for the security escorts. The destruction of Juir is still fresh on the minds of many aboard. It would not serve our purpose to have the Langril killed before the meeting.”

  “Understood my Lord. This has been a strange and unexpected turn of events.”

  “You speak the truth, Command-Overlord. I will prepare the chamber. Let us find out what this Kracori wants—and if I am not mistaken, this will be the first Kracori either of us will have met in the flesh. This meeting will be revealing on many levels.”

  The Ornate Room aboard the massive Juirean flagship was just that: a room of opulence and excess designed to impress and overwhelm any visitor. The pride, strength and dominance of the Juirean culture was on full display within the chamber, having been designed to give any foreign power pause when contemplating a challenge to Juirean control.

  For the Kracori, that opportunity to pause and reconsider a course of action had been forfeited when one of their senior commanders had dropped a huge rock on the planet Juir, causing both an environmental, as well as climatic upheaval that would last far beyond the time when the Juireans would reclaim their homeworld.

  Even now, a force of over one thousand Juirean warships was entering the Juirean stellar system, determined to defeat any resistance the New Expansion threw against it. Even through the patchy comm link—as a result of interference by the Dysion Shield—Council Elder Wydor bin Sulic had received reports that the fleet was meeting no resistance, and in a few short hours, Juireans would once again walk upon the surface of their homeworld.

  The thought brought such a surge of both excitement and relief that Wydor had trouble concentrating on the current state of affairs within the Dysion Void. Yet with the Kracori Langril Nomar Polimic just now arriving onboard the flagship, his mind returned to the problem at hand.