by T. R. Harris
Riyad looked at the object, then at his two feuding captains. “Throughout the years, I have made it possible for the two of you to share in dozens of bounties greater than this. What makes this one so different that the two of you would fight over scraps?”
Neither spoke, so Riyad turned to Jolaa. “Mnnlee says he initiated the attack and is therefore entitled to the bigger share. And he wants this thing. Why is he wrong?”
“My General, we both staged the attack, and used the trapping techniques you have taught us. We were the herders. We drove the ship to the attack point. All Captain Mnnlee had to do was open fire at the appropriate time. That hardly constitutes initiating the attack.”
Riyad had worked closely with both captains for a long time, and so he was not surprised by the articulate argument Jolaa presented. He was one of Riyad’s favorites, even though he never expressed himself in those terms. It was always best to keep them guessing.
He turned to Mnnlee, whose piercing black and yellow eyes stared back at him unblinking. Riyad knew that was just the way the lizard-like Rigorians always looked, but it still created an instinctive challenge in Riyad’s mind. He did not like Rigorians, which probably harkened back to his childhood, and his hatred for the omnipresent geckos that would crawl on him at night as he slept. Captain Mnnlee looked like an over-sized gecko wearing a black bandolier.
“Captain Jolaa’s argument seems reasonable. We are all part of a unified force now, not a bunch of independent, rabid scavengers.” Riyad doubted if the translator would do justice to the word “rabid,” but he was sure his message was getting through.
Showing no fear, Captain Mnnlee took a step closer to Riyad. “General, my profits are down and my crew has seen half their take reduced in the past few months. We are making fewer raids, and almost none of them to planet-based targets.” Riyad knew Mnnlee’s comments were meant to go far beyond this current dispute. This was aimed directly at him. “My crew was responsible for the stopping of the ship. If they counter-attacked, it would have been my crew who took the brunt of the casualties, not Jolaa’s. We deserve a larger share. We deserve this bounty.”
Riyad heard the muted calls of agreement from the surrounding throng of pirates in the hall. This could easily get out of hand and grow into a full-scale mutiny, which Riyad sensed was Mnnlee’s goal all along. Mnnlee knew that no single pirate could stand against Riyad solo, but together they might stand a chance…
Riyad simply lowered his head as if in thought and slowly nodded. “You’re argument is also persuasive, Captain Mnnlee. I see your point. And you have told my Second that the terms of his solution to this issue are unacceptable to you. I can respect that. But then again,” he paused for effect, “I had no idea these decisions were up to you!”
And with that, Riyad lifted the golden crest from the table – and in a movement so swift that no one knew what had happened until it was over – slashed the Rigorian’s neck clean through with the thin edge of the relic. The steely, beady eyes of the Rigorian remained locked on Riyad, even as the life drained out of his body. Then the long-snouted head tilted forward slightly, before toppling over completely and landing on the table for all in the room to see. Then the rest of the body crumpled to the floor, as prodigious amounts of blood fountained from the wound and began to pool around the corpse.
Then turning to the stunned crowd of pirates, Riyad shouted, “I make the decisions around here! No one tells me what is acceptable and what is not.” Then he tossed the bloody ornament onto the table in front of Jolaa. “The bounty will be split evenly, all except for this. It’s yours now, Jolaa.” Then he addressed the crowd again, “Unless one of you wants to take it from him.”
There was a stunned silence in the hall as Riyad and Angar left the room.
Chapter Nine
Senior Specialist Eannwen entered Lord Yan’wal’s chambers and took a seat before the Overlord’s desk. He held a datapad and a file chip, which he passed across the desk to his superior.
Yan’wal slipped the chip into a reader, and the monitor to his right lit up.
“We have gone back over the past several months and correlated transmission traffic throughout the Sector,” Eannwen began without preamble. The graphic on the screen showed an almost red screen around the planet Dimloe. “There has been a marked increase in transmissions to and from Dimloe, beginning right around nine standard months ago. According to the inhabitants of the Sector, this planet is one of the least desirable of the habitable worlds, so any such increase is definitely out of the ordinary.” He stopped, waiting for a reaction from the Overlord.
After regarding the screen for a few moments, Yan’wal turned to the comm-unit on his desk. “Provide a link with Fleet Commander Siegor,” he commanded into the device. He then turned his attention back to his subordinate. “So Dimloe is a viable candidate for the destination of the Klin ship? Are these transmissions concentrated in any particular region of the planet?”
“There is increased activity across most of the surface, but there appear to be two primary sources. They are widely separated.”
Yan’wal nodded, just as Commander Siegor appeared on the large monitor. “Yes, my Lord?”
“We have confirmation of increased wave transmission activity from Dimloe, which appears to be concentrated in two distinct areas. You are directed to launch an assault on the planet, taking care not to allow any surviving targets to escape the area.” Yan’wal’s speech was even and passionless.
Without hesitation, Siegor stated, “I will employ an enveloping strategy and set pickets beyond our line to catch any targets which manage to slip through.”
“Approved,” said Yan’wal. Then continuing: “Commander, the Klin may employ weapons and tactics not encountered to date. Be mindful. And prisoners would be beneficial.”
“Understood, My Lord. We can launch in approximately seven hours.”
Chapter Ten
Riyad returned to his ship in orbit above Dimloe, leaving Angar to watch for any discontent among his pirates. Although he knew firm and graphic examples had to be made of insubordinates, he was also aware that such action always ran the risk of inciting even further resentment and unrest.
Besides, Mnnlee had been right. Over the past few months, Riyad had not been taking such an active role in the planning of pirate raids. Most of that responsibility had fallen on Angar, and he just wasn’t that aggressive or confident in his abilities. Riyad felt responsibility for that, too. Prior to Riyad’s arrival and ascension to the leadership position, Angar had been one of the pirates’ most adept captains. Yet after shadowing Riyad for the past couple of years, and marveling at his effortless – and almost uncanny – ability to choose targets and coordinate attacks, Angar was suffering a lack of confidence in his own abilities. Riyad was, after all, a hard act to follow.
Riyad lay back on the bed in his stateroom and stared at the ceiling. His quest for the Klin had distracted him recently and placed Angar in an untenable position. It would be important for Riyad to maintain discipline within the ranks, while at the same time allowing Angar to get a few wins under his belt.
But most of all, Riyad needed time. He needed time to follow up on leads – such as Zylim-4 – while trying to find more. And what if Zylim-4 actually did pan out? How would he infiltrate a Klin stronghold and secure the information he needed without having an army of his own to back him up? At some future date he may have to call upon his pirates – and whatever loyalty he still commanded – to assist him in his quest. Of course, the assistance the pirates would provide would go uncompensated, but hopefully by the time they realized this, it would be too late.
By then Riyad Tarazi would be on his way back home.
But first things first.
He had to lay out some grand action that he could feed to Angar that would appease his pirates and bring some much-needed self-esteem back to his Second. But what could it be—
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of an alarm blaring throu
gh the comm system. He scrambled to his desk and pressed a button. “What’s happening?”
Immediately, Captain Delmin on the bridge answered. “My General, several large contacts have just appeared at the edges of our screens, closing on Dimloe.” His voice was shrill.
Not again, Riyad thought. He had just got the base on Dimloe settled in. “I’m on my way.”
By the time he entered the bridge, an image of Captain Angar was on the main screen. To the sides of the large screen were two smaller ones, showing numerous bright contacts with trajectory lines trailing out from behind them, with the planet Dimloe in the center. There appeared to be far too many contacts closing on the planet.
“My General,” Angar said, “we’ve counted forty-nine ships closing on the planet.” Angar’s voice was also an octave higher, carrying with it a trace of disbelief.
“That can’t be right,” Riyad scolded. “The Juireans only have sixteen ships in their entire Fringe fleet.”
“It is correct, General. We have visual confirmation on most of them.” Angar was nearing panic.
“Have escape procedures been initiated?”
“Yes, but the contacts are coming in from nearly every direction. Even your scatter technique may not work in this instance.”
Riyad was silent for a moment as he took in the information. So the Juireans have learned, he thought. But where did all these damn ships come from?
“Captain Angar, have all our forces coordinate with my location. We will attempt to penetrate their shield by concentrating our strength on their weakest point.” He then turned to Captain Delmin. “From the strength of the wells, determine where the smallest attacking ship is and plot its location.”
Riyad stared at the screen for several seconds, with nothing happening. Then turning to his captain: “What’s the delay? We don’t have all day!”
Flustered, Captain Delmin looked up from his console. “Any weaknesses are minimal. These ships all appear to be mostly heavy cruisers, not the normal contingent of the Fringe fleet.
Damn, thought Riyad. The fucking Juireans seem to be serious this time. Scanning the closing targets himself on the screen, Riyad spotted a slightly wider gap between the contacts coming out a sector that would be fifty minutes on a clock. He pointed at the sector. “There! Set your course for between these two targets,” he commanded. “Angar, have Jolaa and Hasszk lead the force in their ships. They have the most firepower—”
“General!” Delmin yelled. “I have contacts departing the surface and heading to engage the Juireans!”
He was right. On the screen were several lines emanating from a point on the surface, a couple of dozen of them at least. They appeared to be coming out of the southwestern section of the planet, and their gravity signatures were massive. These were fast and powerful ships. But whose were they?
Riyad’s heart skipped a beat. KLIN! They’re Klin. And right here on Dimloe. And they had been right under his nose all along!
Thinking as quickly as he could, Riyad tried to put this new development into perspective. He couldn’t allow the Juireans to defeat the Klin, at least not until he could glean whatever information regarding Earth’s location as he could from them. In fact, helping the Klin might actually ingratiate him into their favor…
Turning to the large screen and Angar’s image, Riyad spoke: “Change of plans. We’re going to join this battle and assist the contacts leaving the surface.”
He could see the shock on Angar’s face. “We…who?” he stammered.
“Just get our ships off-planet,” Riyad told him. “I’ll coordinate from here.” Angar nervously nodded and cut the link.
Fleet Commander Siegor was surprised to see the two dozen ships bolt into space and form up to confront his vastly superior force. He had at his command some of the most-modern and powerful ships of The Expansion, and manned by mostly-Juirean crews. Believing now that the attackers intended to engage his force, Siegor began to bark orders to concentrate his forces in a region of space forming a corridor between the two moons of Dimloe. The force from the surface appeared to be heading in that direction, which would actually make it easier for his fleet to contain them.
A junior Guard tapped a section of the screen to get his commander’s attention. Another grouping of gravity signatures had just begun to rise from planet. These signatures were much smaller, although numerous. And these, too, appeared to gathering near the corridor.
Quickly assessing this new wrinkle in his plan, Siegor determined that even this added firepower would be inadequate to defeat his force. So with the utmost confidence, Commander Siegor watched as dozens of attack lines grew longer, and all heading for a central point between the two moons of Dimloe.
With the enemies of The Expansion so few these days, major battles, especially in space, were very rare. And in all his years, this was shaping up to be the largest space battle Siegor could remember in his lifetime. His chest swelled with pride as he reveled in the moment. This was what he was bred for! And the fact that the battle was more-than-likely against the mythical Klin, made this moment even more special and unique.
“Charge all weapons,” he commanded. “Prepare for battle.”
David Sidwell watched as the Juirean forces began to consolidate at the entrance to the Minlean Corridor, just as the plan called for. He stood on the bridge of the Fleet Ship Klamath River and smiled. He had been training his crews, with the assistance of 2G’s and their Klin advisors, for almost three years now, and finally the moment was here. He was sure all his fellow Humans would perform as expected, and that the coming battle would be a glorious victory for his fellow expatriate Humans.
Of course, he was still surprised at the suddenness of the call to quarters, even though he had suspected something was up for the past several days.
The 2G’s had been spending more time in muted conversation among themselves, which always made David feel a little nervous and uncomfortable. Even a few Klin had dropped by the base and spoken with Kyle Ross, the leader of the 2G’s on Dimloe; they had also greeted David, respecting his position as senior native-born at the base. But their conversations had not provided any warning regarding the impending Juirean attack. It was just the accumulation of tiny things that made David suspect a coming event of some kind.
Earlier that day, the call had finally arrived, and David sounded the alarm that sent his fleet streaking for open space.
As expected, the Juirean fleet consisted mainly of heavy cruisers, as well as a scattering of smaller light cruisers and two huge bolt platforms; the Klin intelligence had been spot on. Through countless simulations, David knew his ships could withstand all except a direct belly-shot from the bolt platforms, and the individual Juirean ships could be easily outmaneuvered to always maintain the strongest possible defensive posture against their weapons.
He glanced out the side viewports and watched as some of the closest ships to his position began to move away, preparing for battle. It would be the last he would see of them visually until the conclusion of the action. From here on out, they would just be blips on the forward tactical screen of his command bridge. Even though he was confident as to the outcome of the battle, he still felt a sadness and apprehension that this could be last he ever saw of many of his fellow Humans aboard those ships…
David Sidwell had been born and raised in Humbolt County in northern California. A rugged outdoorsman from an early age, he had hunted the redwood forests and fished in the nearby rivers, many of which carried such iconic names as the Eel, the Smith and the Klamath. It was out of respect and admiration for his home, that David named his flagship after his beloved Klamath River, a gesture which only reinforced his drive and determination to make sure his homeworld would survive against the evil Juireans. Although he had come to accept the fact that he would probably never again set foot on Earth, he nevertheless felt no less willingness to sacrifice his life to help preserve her.
David Sidwell had come to stand on the bridge of his st
arship much like all the other native Humans in his command. Taken by the mysterious Klin at the young age of nineteen, he had at first resisted the information the Klin and the 2G’s had shown him, information regarding the Juireans and their intentions towards Earth. Beyond the startling fact that there were real aliens and real galactic empires, why would the all-powerful Juireans want to harm an obscure planet like Earth? Sure, he’d seen plenty of movies about aliens invading a hapless and defenseless Earth for no good reason. But this was not a movie. This was real life.
Yet as the years passed, David began to accept the fact that the Juireans were simply pure evil, and that they really didn’t need a reason for attacking his homeworld.
It had also been revealed to him how unique the Human race was in comparison to the other races in the galaxy, and how the Juireans resented the Humans for their abilities – just as they had resented the Klin several thousand years before. He was convinced that eventually Earth would suffer the same fate as the Klin at the hands of the Juireans. The only way to prevent that from happening was to join the Klin and the 2G’s, and learn to defeat the Juireans before they ever made it to Earth.
Although the number of true native Humans was small, their numbers were augmented by the Second Generation Humans – the 2G’s – who had been born and raised off the Earth. Although most were younger than David – and seemed a little creepy to him – he nevertheless welcomed their help. They knew the Klin technology inside and out, and ran most of the complicated systems aboard his fleet.
Even though their original bloodline had come from people like David, as far as he could tell, none of the 2G’s had ever set foot on Earth. They seemed to display a much stronger bond with the Klin than they did with their fellow Humans, which was understandable. While David felt almost a paternal attachment to the 2G’s, he never got the sense that the familial bond was reciprocal.