by T. R. Harris
The answer that came back was from Admiral Levin himself. “The Juireans have activated deep-gravity wells and have bugged out. The gravity waves have them departing the system.”
“I thought they never retreated, sir?”
“That was our belief as well. Commander, continue on to the repair coordinates; I will send other units to pursue the Juireans.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
Lee turned to face his stunned bridge crew. “So much for military intelligence. But in any case, it looks like we survived this battle.” Even though his words were encouraging, the faces of the bridge crew did not reflect his confidence. Something just wasn’t right.
Chapter 13
Admiral Levin called an immediate meeting of his senior advisors. In attendance was Michael Rittenberg, the 2G/Savior tactical advisor to the fleet. He had been trained by the Klin to think like a Juirean and to attempt to anticipate their every move. All eyes fell on him as the other six men took seats around the table in Admiral Allen’s ready room.
“So what just happened, Rittenberg?” Admiral Levin asked, not hiding his anger. Even though he welcomed the conclusion of the battle, he did not like surprises. “Reports show the J’s had only lost nine ships out of two-hundred nineteen before they bugged. We lost twenty-two, with another seventeen damaged enough to be out of the fight. At that rate, the aliens could have caused considerable damage to the fleet.”
“I do not know, Admiral,” was Rittenberg’s embarrassed reply. “All reports we have indicate that the Juireans do not retreat, but there have been so few battles in recent history for the reports to be reliable. I would think this would be good news, sir.”
“Normally it would be. But now we have a nearly-intact alien fleet moving further into Juirean territory where it will invariably be reinforced. And we’ve suffered more losses than anticipated, especially counting the damaged units.”
“This may be their plan, Howie,” Admiral Allen spoke up. “They may be looking to strike then retreat, whittling us down a little more with each encounter. After all, we’re a long way from home, and they’re moving closer to their high-ground.”
Levin nodded. “That may be true, but do you honestly think the Juireans believe us to be that naïve as to fall for such an obvious trap?”
“This is an alien race we’re talking about here, Admiral,” Allen replied. “And from their history, they haven’t had to use too much strategy in the past to defeat their enemies. They may be operating from their own simple thinking, not anticipating that their plan is obvious to us. The Human race does have considerably more experience with the tactics of war than they do.” He then looked over at Rittenberg. “That’s why the fucking Klin picked us in the first place, wasn’t it?”
Rittenberg was embarrassed by the glare from Allen. Even though he was one of the most senior 2G’s to be turned by the native Humans, he still felt intimated being in the presence of what he called real Humans. No matter how thoroughly the Klin had tried to teach him all he needed to know to pull off the deception of being one of them, their efforts had fallen woefully short in so many ways. Rittenberg was like a child among adults, ever-learning what it meant to be truly Human.
“The Klin have always counted on your instincts towards war,” Rittenberg said. “I believe they did their best in analyzing Human nature and abilities. But it’s obvious that their forecasts are lacking, not only in regards to Humans, but the Juireans as well.”
Allen just smirked and shook his head. Even though he knew Rittenberg was now on their side – and had been feeding misleading reports to the Klin for months – he still couldn’t get over the belief that this man was a traitor to his own race. Even the way he often spoke just amplified the 2G’s further lack of understanding of the race he was related to.
Allen looked back at Levin, “Howie, this first encounter is a great opportunity to learn not only how the Juireans plan to prosecute this war, but also to speculate on what the Klin’s end-game is as well. It’s obvious that the Juireans want us to follow them deeper into their territory, as they weaken our forces with each engagement. They probably believe that this fleet is the extent of the forces we have to bring against them. In that regard, they’re correct – for now. But unless they have spies back on Earth, they can’t know about the second fleet under construction – with the help of the Klin – or about the units we’re building under the noses of the white-haired bastards. But that fleet won’t be on station for several months.”
Allen looked down at the casualty and damage report from the recent battle, and his devious, Special Forces mind began to click. The germ of an idea began to grow. “Why don’t we let the Juireans succeed with their plan?” he said with a smile.
“Excuse me, Nate – but what the fuck?” Levin said.
“Just think: the Juireans expect us to follow them, probably stopping now and then to inflict more damage on our fleet. At some point, however, they’ll feel they have enough of an advantage and will make a stand designed to destroy the entire fleet – or what’s left of it. Let’s let them do it. Let’s engage them, but rather than have actual losses, let’s pump up our casualty numbers to a point where the J’s believe they are really taking a heavy toll on our forces.”
Levin finally returned the sly smile. “I see where you’re going with this. We pull units out of the subsequent battles at a much higher rate, but keep them in reserve for this final battle the aliens have in mind. We flip their strategy right back at them.”
“Exactly. At some point they may think they’re going up against a couple hundred of our remaining forces, and then we overwhelm them with our reserve units. Hell, this war could be over in a lot less time than we anticipated.”
“Don’t get your hopes up, Nate. The Juireans have so much more capacity at their disposal than we do. And what about the Klin?”
“That’s a variable we still don’t know about. If we do defeat the Juireans – at least to a point where the other members of their empire begin to side with us – then what do the Klin get out of this? Will they be satisfied simply with the Juireans being defeated as revenge for the destruction of Klinmon, or do they want more? Will they let the Humans win the war and take over the Expansion, or do they have plans beyond that?”
All eyes turned to Rittenberg. “I honestly do not know. We never had any conversations regarding the aftermath of the war.”
“What’s your best guess?” Allen asked. “You were raised by the alien fuckers. You must have some idea of what they’re really like.”
“All I know is that the Klin hate the Juireans at core level. Maybe the simple destruction of the Juirean race will be enough for the Klin; I do not know for sure. And yet the Klin have always felt that they were the true creators of the Alliance, and the system and technology that built the Expansion. They feel they were cheated out of their destiny and may want to right that wrong.”
Levin stood up. “Whatever the Klin have planned will reveal itself as the war goes on. We just have to be vigilant. Right now, I have to get our forces back to work. Thank you all. I will have specific orders for you within the hour. Dismissed.”
Chapter 14
Within the hour, Admiral Howie Levin had set in motion three distinct actions. He sent eight hundred and fifty ships in pursuit of the Juirean fleet, following the massive gravity wave deeper into the Expansion. He also sent twenty-five ships and a contingent of Marines to Melfora Lum, the capital planet of the Juirean forces in the Fringe, with orders to take control of the Juirean facilities there. Next he had Commander Lee Schwartz shuttled to his command ship.
When Lee entered the Admiral’s quarters, he was greeted by Levin and his uncle, Admiral Nate Allen. Lee was still pissed at having had his ship damaged during the short, nineteen-minute battle with the Juireans, even though he knew now that the damage was minimal and he’d be back in the fleet in about a week. Why he had been summoned to the flagship was anyone’s guess.
Nate Allen greeted h
is young nephew with a hearty handshake after the cursory saluting. “So, Commander, you’re a Starfighter now,” he said with a smile. Starfighter was the designation now given to anyone who had participated in a battle in space. “The ribbon will look good on your Class A’s.”
“Yes, sir, but I’m not done yet. My ship will be back in action in about a week.”
Levin motioned for Lee to take a seat on the long couch; Nate Allen sat at the other end, while Levin sat in the room’s padded chair.
“Yeah, about that,” Levin started, “we have other plans for you, Commander.”
Lee felt his heart pound heavy in his chest and he went flush. He hadn’t come all this way just to be pulled out of the fight—
Levin held up a hand to stop the protest building up in Lee. “First of all, I want to say you acted honorably in this first encounter with the Juireans, and that you are being promoted immediately to the rank of Captain.”
Lee clamped his mouth shut as his eyes grew wide.
“But with the rank comes a new assignment.”
Here it comes.
Levin looked over at Nate Allen, who took over the conversation. “It’s the belief of Command that the reason the Juireans bugged out of the area is that they want us to follow them deeper into their territory, while continuing to inflict casualties on the Fleet. Then at some point, we believe they’ll attempt to spring a trap on our diminished forces. We’re going to let the Juireans do this.”
“I don’t understand, sir.”
“What we want you to do, Captain, is take over command of a shadow fleet, one that will consist of artificial casualties from the subsequent battles to come, plus all the ships that are actually damaged yet can rejoin the battle. We want the Juireans to believe they are weakening our forces at a rapid pace, while at the same time building this shadow fleet behind their backs. When their trap gets sprung, you will then counterattack with your fleet, catching the J’s in a trap of our own. Does this make sense to you?”
Lee nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said. “But I will be out of the fighting to come, except for the final battle. Sir, I’m a pilot not a—”
“Not a desk jockey?” Allen finished for him. “I understand that. But this fleet you’re going to build has to be done in complete secrecy and I trust you, Lee. We cannot have the Juireans detect it while you shadow the main fleet. And the Klin must not know about it either. We don’t trust the Klin to know of our plans, so all the 2G’s in your command, plus any Converts you find, must be one-hundred percent loyal – or be purged from the fleet.”
“Purged?”
“That’s right, Lee. We cannot risk word of our plans getting out to anyone, even the Klin. You are an excellent pilot, but right now we need you to take over this new role. It’s a crucial role. Can you do it for us?”
“Yes sir, of course.” And then he smiled. “But I was just getting use to killing aliens.”
“You’ll get your chance again. When we spring this trap, you’ll have ample opportunity to rack up more kills for your ace-rating. Since your ship is already undergoing repairs, we need you to assess the current strength of your fleet. We anticipate the next battle with the Juireans will come fairly soon, at which time we’ll pull out several dozen more ships – fully operational ships, I might add – to join your fleet. We don’t want to draw out this final battle any longer than need be, so we’ll attempt to call the Juirean’s hand by having greatly-inflated casualty figures. The sooner we get the main fleet drawn down to a faction of its current strength, the sooner the Juireans will feel confident enough to spring the trap. You need to be ready when that time comes.”
“Well, thanks a lot, Uncle Nate. Not much riding on this – except everything!”
“Now you understand, my boy. Just make sure you don’t screw it up.”
Chapter 15
General Owen Taggert watched the planet of Melfora Lum grow rapidly through the forward viewport of the Klin spaceship, the one that its Human crew had named the Semper Fi. It had been nearly five months since he had left the Earth, on a mission to defend her interests against the almost inconceivable threat posed by the Juirean race. And although he had cruised past other worlds within the Melfora Lum system and elsewhere, this would be the first inhabited alien planet he would actually step upon.
The planet itself was very picturesque, comfortingly similar to Earth. There were three large land masses visible during his approach, with vast blue oceans and wispy white clouds casting shadows upon the surface. Like most Humans of the modern age, General Taggert was somewhat acclimated to the idea and imagery of alien worlds. Countless movies and science programs had prepared him for this moment. Yet here was a real alien world, and in a few moments, he and his accompanying force of twenty-five Klin flying saucers would make a hostile landing at the planetary capital city of Hi’Jea, and assault the Juirean headquarters located there.
During the long journey to the Fringe, Owen Taggert had taken it upon himself to learn more about the nature of the enemy he faced and the organization that it led. What he found was fascinating.
Through all the studying he’d done and reports he’d read, Taggert was amazed to find that a vast majority of the beings inhabiting the galaxy all shared many of the same basic traits and societal structures. Anthropologists and astrobiologists – armed with actual real-life data provided by the Klin – could now theorize why this was so. Their conclusions pointed to the fact that every inhabited world, whether now or in the future, would eventually produce only one dominant species. The Juireans and the Klin called these top-of-the-food-chain creatures Primes, and they noticed that nearly all of them shared the same general physical and biological characteristics: Ninety-five percent of them were mammals. Most walked upright on two or four legs and had two or four arms. Many had binocular sight. The development of hands was extremely important and remarkably similar, comprised of a combination of fingers and thumbs that were capable of manipulating tools.
Taggert accepted these conclusions without question, chalking many of them up to just common sense. But what he really wanted to know was why did all the alien civilizations he studied appear to be so Human-like? Nowhere to be found were there gaseous creatures that floated through the air, or talking fish, or slugs that ran spaceships. The explanation he found changed his perspective on all alien life in the galaxy.
As he learned, once a Prime reached a certain point in its evolution, the creature developed the ability to imagine. It could imagine what would happen if an animal attacked. It could imagine a time when the weather grew colder or its food supply dwindled. Basically, the creature would become aware of its surroundings and could project into the future.
As time went by, these Primes would begin to build shelters against the elements and clothing against the cold, knowing from their memories and imagination what could best be developed to help guarantee their survival. The more proficient they became in this area, the more they became dependent upon these exterior improvements to their condition. Furs grew thinner, teeth shorter and muscles weaker. Soon these Primes survived primarily through brain-power rather than brawn.
With permanent structures now needed to sustain their well-being, the Primes developed communities that would further help guarantee their survival. As the population of these settlements grew, the inhabitants found it wasn’t feasible for the entire community to go hunting each day for sustenance, so specialists were developed. Some in the community grew the food, others domesticated livestock, while others provided protection or taught the children.
On millions of worlds throughout the galaxy, this same pattern was followed countless times as Primes advanced through the millennia. The settlements became larger, and as they did rules had to be laid down detailing the proper conduct within the society. Governments formed to enforce these rules, and soon a more-or-less homogeny of societal development became the rule rather than the exception. Every advanced race, on every habitable world, ended up having basically al
l the same wants, needs and desires, and followed nearly the same path to satisfy them. They all needed food, clothing and shelter. They all needed others within the society to help provide nearly everything the others needed to survive. Specializations became skills, skills became jobs and jobs became careers.
So, as Taggert learned, when you stripped away all the grime, the foul smells, and all the disgusting habits and mannerisms that were to be found in all the creatures of the galaxy, we are all basically the same.
And that was why General Owen Taggert and his Marines were about to land on an alien world, complete with cities and skyscrapers, streets and cars, and shopping centers and ball-fields.
Chapter 16
Taggert’s force of four hundred battle-hardened Marines were chomping at the bit for some action. All of them had served either in Iraq or Afghanistan – or both – and since the surprise bombardment of the Earth by the Juireans, they were all anxious to get into the fight. The surprisingly short space battle that had taken place eighteen hours before had not involved the Marines, yet the ground assault against any remaining Juirean forces on Melfora Lum was entirely up to them to carry out.
The Juireans dominated a section of Hi’Jea called Kri, with the main headquarters building presenting an unmistakable target, standing over 40 stories tall, pyramidal and shimmering with a bronze glass exterior. Intelligence reports had indicated that the Juireans had recently added a considerable number of their own kind to their normally anemic numbers in the Sector, with estimates running as high as two to three thousand Juirean Guards. Add to this the number of native Melforeans fighting alongside the Juireans, and Taggert’s force would be greatly outnumbered.
But he had Marines on his side – Human Marines – and from all indicators each one of his men was worth a hundred aliens, even counting the Juireans.