Sacrifice:The Shenkar War

by Libby, Seth

  “Thanks, I just might do that. It’s nice to talk to someone my own age. The entire bridge crew is at least thirty years or older.” As she said this, a thought occurred to her. “How old are you exactly?”

  “Twenty-one,” said Steve.

  “No, seriously, how old were you before the age regeneration?”

  “Does it really matter?” But seeing the look on her face, he sighed. “I am thirty-five years old, technically.”

  “Was that so hard?”

  “Well, you did just complain about the age of the bridge crew.”

  “True, but you’re different--you are less uptight. Well, I do need to get some sleep. Have a good night, Steve. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Thanks, it was nice to meet you also. Sweet dreams.”

  Smiling, Kimino turned and walked off toward her quarters. She didn’t have to turn around to know that Steve watched her until she rounded the corner out of sight.

  September 24, 2012, 2:16 p.m. ESTNecro Squadron, On Patrol

  Liam checked his scanner, looking for any abnormalities.

  “I’m not finding anything; let’s turn to vector five eight and take a closer look at the other side of the small moon that orbits N-3.”

  As Liam pressed down with his right foot, his fighter also eased slowly to the right. Glancing at his scanner, he saw that nine other F-77 Scorpion fighters followed, spread out in a staggered formation.

  The EDF Sacrifice was currently stationed within an asteroid field that occupied this system in an effort to hide their base of operations. System 238 had a medium-sized sun not unlike the Earth’s sun. Of the six planets in the system, three were gas giants and three were dead rocks. The asteroid field floated in space between the six planets in the place where it was believed there had been a seventh planet. The planet closest to the asteroid field, N-3, proved to be the most likely planet for the Shenkar to establish a ground base. If this was the case, all supply ships would have to pass by the asteroid field in which the Sacrifice was now secluded. It made for a perfect staging point for hit-and-run attacks.

  As Necro Squadron flew above the surface of the moon, Liam studied its pocketed surface. As they rounded the northern pole of the moon, Liam’s alarm board lit up. Thirty blips appeared upon his scanner, slowly cresting the northern pole of N-4.

  “Necro Squadron, we have contact. Hit your afterburners and attack,” Liam said.

  As one, ten Scorpion fighters afterburners engaged, propelling them forward toward the Shenkar patrol. Liam, as a sudden whim, toggled his comm unit to an open frequency.

  “To the Shenkar Federation inbound fighters, we are Necro Squadron. We are from the race of humans. You do not know us, but you will soon learn what we are made of and what we stand for. We, however, know what you are made of and what you stand for. We know of your race’s destruction and subjugation of other sentient races. It all ends here, for we will stop you. You have known the calm, now witness the storm, for we are the storm, and we bring death!”

  All thirty blips turned toward Liam’s patrol, racing to engage those they deemed unworthy. Lining up his targeting reticule, he squeezed the trigger. Four energy bolts slammed through the canopy of the incoming Shenkar fighter, snapping the fighter in half, both halves rolling over through space. Liam was already lining up another Shenkar before his first target finished its death roll. His second volley of fire took a Shenkar fighter in the rear of the ship, instantly destroying the engine. While Liam’s fighter was equipped with an ion engine, Shenkar technology used fusion reactors. The destruction of the engine ignited the fighter’s reactor, and the ship exploded in a brilliant flash of light.

  Before Liam could line up another target, the Shenkar patrol was past. Pulling back hard on his flight stick and depressing a pedal, Liam’s fighter made a sharp corkscrew turn, bringing him around and onto the tail of a Shenkar fighter. Without hesitation and without thinking, his finger squeezed the trigger and the Shenkar fighter exploded. And then the stars were quiet. Only wreckage remained of the thirty fighters of the Shenkar patrol.

  “Sacrifice, this is Necro Squadron. We have met and engaged a Shenkar fighter group in sector eight six. Approximately thirty in number, all eliminated. Please advise,” Liam said into his comm unit. Ten seconds was all he had to wait for a response.

  “Necro Squadron, this is Sacrifice. Continue on your patrol. Omega shuttles are being dispatched to deal with the wreckage.”

  “Okay, guys, let’s resume our previous course.”

  The rest of the patrol met with no more encounters, and soon Liam was once again bringing his fighter in for a landing.

  September 24, 2012, 4:31 p.m. ESTEDF Sacrifice, Hangar Bay

  Evan climbed from his fighter and stretched, feeling the satisfying extension of his muscles. Turning, he watched a squadron--the Red Knights, he thought--taking off for their patrol.

  “So, ace, how many did you down?”

  Turning, Evan saw Steve standing there. “Oh, I don’t know; I don’t keep track.”

  “Yeah, right,” Steve said sarcastically.

  Evan laughed, and together they walked from the hangar.

  “So what’s the story with you and Lieutenant Sukita?” asked Evan, scrutinizing Steve for his reaction to this sudden question. Steve blushed and looked anxious.

  “I don’t know what you are talking about . . . we are just friends,” Steve said evasively.

  “Uh-huh . . . friends who have been hanging out a lot over the past few weeks.”

  “Well, it isn’t like I’m not interested, ’cause who wouldn’t be. She is gorgeous. We are just friends; I am not her type,” Steve said a little glumly.

  “You asked her out?”

  “Well, no, but I can tell when someone isn’t interested in me for more than a friend.”

  As they rounded a corner, Lieutenant Kimino Sukita walked up.

  “Speak of the devil,” Evan said, smiling.

  This comment seemed to startle Kimino, and she eyed Evan and Steve suspiciously. “Excuse me?” she asked

  “Oh . . . nothing,” Steve said quickly and then continued as Kimino opened her mouth as if to comment. “So, what brings you down here?”

  “I was looking for you. Didn’t know if you wanted to get a drink--I’m off duty for the evening.”

  “Sure, but I need to shower first. Do you want to meet me at the rec center?” asked Steve.

  Kimino looked uncertain.

  “Well, the thing is, I am not all that comfortable sitting in there by myself. I feel like I am intruding, since I am not a Templar Knight.”

  “Well, I shouldn’t be long, so I guess if you want, you are welcome to wait in my quarters,” Steve said shyly. He then added quickly, “Well, only if you won’t be uncomfortable or anything.”

  “No, that would be okay. I would prefer that,” said Kimino, smiling.

  The two said their good-byes to Evan and then departed for Steve’s quarters. Evan watched them go, and from the way Kimino looked at Steve, he had the feeling they wouldn’t ever make it to the rec room.

  Over the past few days, he had seen several pilots getting a little closer. He couldn’t fault them. If he did, he would be a hypocrite, simply based on his involvement with Crystal. Also, for these men and women, they never knew when their last day to live would be. So why wouldn’t people want to find a little bit of comfort?

  Evan turned and headed off toward his own quarters. On his way there, Callen Groto stepped in beside him.

  “Hey, mate, how was your patrol?” Callen asked.

  “All right. We ran into a patrol of thirty Shenkar fighters. They weren’t any real trouble, and we dispatched them quickly. Worries me, though, that we couldn’t find the ship that brought them here. There should have been a capital ship. How was your patrol?”

  “Close to the same as yours. We found a patrol of fifteen Shenkar fighters escorting what looked like a light cruiser. We had a debriefing upon landing because it wasn’t in o
ur database. Seems the Shenkar have some new ships. The wreckage is being analyzed now, but preliminary reports show it might be a long-range reconnaissance ship. Its armament was negligible, and we had no trouble. Perhaps it is the same ship that housed the patrol you found. Either way, we got off easy. Our buddy Petiot, on the other hand, had some trouble.”

  “What did that arrogant ass do now?” Evan asked, not bothering to hide his annoyed tone.

  “His squadron and the other French squadron ran into two Kelgen-class destroyers with complements of twenty fighters each. Dumb bastard didn’t call in for any help.”

  “What happened?” asked Evan, a knot growing in his stomach.

  “The way they tell it is they disabled the destroyers before they were able to fold out. Then they eliminated the fighters before turning back to finish off the destroyers.”

  “Sounds fine--so what are you holding back?”

  “When one of the destroyers blew, one of the French pilots didn’t get out of the blast zone. His fighter caught a large chunk of shrapnel and exploded.”

  “Our first casualty, then . . . still, so far it could have been worse. We have had ten engagements with the Shenkar, eliminating over three hundred Shenkar fighters and eight various capital ships, and until now, we have suffered no casualties.”

  “Yeah, well, there is more . . . it seems when the Omega shuttles were dispatched to remove the wreckage, they reported a discrepancy. They can’t account for one of the fighters. It is possible the wreckage was vaporized in the explosion of one of the destroyers, but they don’t think so.”

  “So chances are the Shenkar now will know their forces are coming into a hostile area--the same area they previously sent coordinates for their forces to rendezvous at. We can expect they will be ready for us now and will be looking for us.”

  Sighing, Evan didn’t say anything more.

  September 24, 2012, 4:45 p.m. ESTAdmiral Kelvin’s Quarters

  Admiral Kelvin fumed with anger as he looked at the pilot standing before him.

  “You have cost us our advantage with your little stunt today! What do you have to say for yourself?” yelled Captain Caqel, who was standing to the Admiral’s left.

  “I assessed the situation and felt that two squadrons were more than sufficient. I don’t see how I could be faulted with--”

  Kelvin cut him off before he could finish what he was about to say. “You felt? You know what the protocols are for a situation like that. Two squadrons per any light to medium capital-class ship.” He held up two fingers as he said this. Then continuing, he said, “Seeing as there were two medium destroyers there, you should have called in the support of the other two squadrons that were on patrol. Now chances are the Shenkar are aware of a hostile presence in this sector! They will send out the warning to all ships not to come into this sector in such low numbers. We may get lucky with some of the Shenkar not getting the message, but I don’t think it will be more than a handful at most.

  “You are being relieved of your command. Lieutenant Fierte will take command of the squadron from now on. Now get out, and don’t let me ever hear of you pulling any more stunts like this or I will have you executed for treason.”

  Pierre Petiot turned stiffly, a look of absolute anger plain on his face, and marched from the room.

  Once alone with Captain Caqel, the Admiral let the anger go. “Have the surveys I asked for been completed?” he asked Caqel.

  “Yes, I just got the reports before I came here. We were able to pinpoint a suitable location. The asteroid we designated V4 has an extensive cavern system.”

  “Excellent, we will need to get started right away. All engineers are to work at the fastest possible speed without jeopardizing the structure. Now more than ever, we will need luck. We should assume the Shenkar know we are somewhere in system and will be looking for us. With the establishment of an asteroid base, we can move the Sacrifice out of the asteroid field and make as if we are running when the Shenkar arrive. Naturally, they will pursue, and we will fold away but only a short jump.

  “We will then move the Sacrifice in and out of the system, hitting them when it is possible, presenting a tempting target for the Shenkar. Naturally, they will assume the Sacrifice is the only capital ship assaulting their forces. Also, if this gamble backfires on us and the Shenkar catch and destroy the Sacrifice, then all surviving pilots and maybe some of the crew will have a base to evacuate to.”

  “I will have the engineers shuttled over immediately. We have all the equipment needed aboard ship,” said Captain Caqel. Then he asked, “Sir, did you think of this before we departed, or do all Meshtrell battlecruisers carry base-building equipment?”

  “No, normally base-building equipment isn’t found on battlecruisers. The area all that equipment occupies is normally used for additional fighters. But, yes, it did occur to me that we might need another base of operations. I want you to oversee the construction personally.”

  “Yes, sir--is there anything else?”

  “No, you are dismissed.”

  Captain Caqel saluted and then turned and departed.

  September 28, 2012, 8:38 p.m. ESTKrazzeen, Flagship of the Shenkar Dread Fleet

  Krailsha paced the bridge of the Krazzeen as he listened to the reports of his second-in-command, the glory-seeking Shizta. The sector they were headed to was supposed to have been void of life, yet something was eliminating elements of his fleet.

  “Our latest reports make losses numbering 558 Creeza fighters, eight Kelgen-class destroyers, four Jitraz reconnaissance ships, and one Shizrec cruiser. Except for the report from the only pilot to escape, we have no evidence other than a transmission we intercepted. Our translators were finally able to decipher the language. It is a language we have never encountered.”

  Shizta leaned forward and keyed a button on a control panel, and a voice sounded over a speaker. Krailsha stopped to listen to the transmission.

  “To the Shenkar Federation inbound fighters, we are Necro Squadron. We are from the race of humans. You do not know us, but you will soon learn what we are made of and what we stand for. We, however, know what you are made of and what you stand for. We know of your race’s destruction and subjugation of other sentient races. It all ends here, for we will stop you, You have known the calm, now witness the storm, for we are the storm and we bring death!”

  Krailsha stood still, thinking over the transmission. “Humans” is what the voice had called itself, yet they didn’t give a planet from which they came from. How was he supposed to crush these insolent beings if he couldn’t find them? Testing the word on his scaled lips, he spoke.

  “Huuummmaaan,” dragging out the word then shaking his head as if he knew this to be wrong again. “Humaan,” then nodded to himself before continuing. “Could these humans be the same race of the transmissions our advanced scouts detected?”

  “I doubt it, Supreme Overlord, for the transmissions were of a technology that doesn’t match those that have been destroying our ships. The transmissions show a race of these pink-skinned sentient beings who have barely begun space travel . . . they haven’t even made it farther than their own orbiting moon.” Then Shizta tilted his head to the side as if suddenly remembering something.

  “What is it?” demanded Krailsha.

  “Well, it is I just realized that the language is the same . . . the one we just listened to and the transmissions from the advanced scouts. But the technologies don’t even closely match, so how could these pink-skinned creatures be the same as the ones assaulting our forces?”

  “They can’t be the same beings. They must have just used the language of the nearest inhabited system to hide their true identities. It must be some remnant of a race we have already pacified or cleansed. I will take the Battlecruiser Flykreel and report to the Shelecore of this matter. We have never suffered such loses before, and I must speak to him in person. You are to take the Krazzeen and proceed to coordinates just outside of the hostile system, where you will r
endezvous with Overlord Trikreca and the Third Fleet. Overlord Trikreca will then find and destroy the hostiles . . . these humaans.”

  Then, as if an afterthought, Krailsha added, “I know you are ambitious, Commander Shizta, but under no circumstances are you to take the Krazzeen into that system without the support of the Third Fleet.”

  “Yes, Supreme Overlord. But can anything really stand against the flagship of the mighty Shenkar Federation? This ship is one of a kind. It could crush any three battlecruisers with ease.”

  “Even so, you will wait for the Third Fleet, or you will have me to deal with--do I make myself clear?” demanded Krailsha.

  “Yes, Supreme Overlord,” Shizta said, not bothering to hide his animosity for his commander.

  Krailsha ignored the insolence, turned, and left for personal transport that would take him to the Flykreel.

  September 29, 2012, 9:12 p.m. ESTKrazzeen, Flagship of the Shenkar Dread Fleet

  Shizta stood on the bridge of the Krazzeen, studying the main view screen. Except for one of the gas giants in the next system, only distant stars and darkness were visible.

  “Are we picking up anything on our scanners?” he asked the officer manning the nearby communications station.

  “No, Commander.”

  Shizta paced, with aggravation pulsing throughout his body. He didn’t need the Third Fleet; nothing could stand against the Krazzeen. If he were to find and either capture or destroy these humans, then he would get the recognition he so well deserved. Perhaps even the Shelecore himself would wish to thank him for his efforts. He would then be out from under the Supreme Commander’s eye and his cautious nature.

  How he hated the Supreme Overlord. How could such a warrior of his renowned record of victories be so cautious? There was no honor in caution, only honor in decisive action. Making a sudden decision, he turned to the bridge crew.