There was an air of menace to his comments. Shortly after Zanther ascended to the Rockoid throne, Xorax maintained that, having been educated as a healer, she was not qualified to assume the role as the leader of their people, a position that put her in charge of their armed forces.
Zanther’s family, the House of Zophine, had held the Rockoid throne for many generations, and Xorax knew it was unwise to attempt to stage a rebellion against Zanther. As a result, his opposition was relatively low-key. He would bide his time, and if his Empress should make a misstep, he would use any mistake to his advantage to further the success of his own long-term plans to usurp the throne for his family.
Zanther wore the mantle of command well. She answered Xorax promptly and forcefully. She was not oblivious to the subtle political maneuverings in the Rockoid Council of Elders…some of which occurred under Xorax’s influence.
“Xorax, you do not need to remind me of the manner in which we treat prisoners. You know I will uphold the traditions of our people. If prisoners of war need to be executed, that is what shall be.”
Xorax never ceased to admire the manner in which the Empress expressed her wishes in public. He sensed her private misgivings about the upcoming battle, yet he saw no strategic advantage in bringing those doubts to the forefront. He had no proof, just a feeling. The Council of Elders would not accept speculation, considering the stakes involved in the coming war.
Xorax smiled obsequiously and made his excuses.
“Please do not take offense, my Empress. I merely reminded
you for the sake of the Council, who will consult the log of our conference. Now that it is settled, we need not waste time discussing defensive tactics. Everyone knows that our firepower and ships are far superior to the Alliance fleet, as Supreme Commander Queksnar has stated. The only circumstance under which our standard defensive tactics would be altered is in the unlikely event that the humans and their allies had somehow developed a secret weapon of enormous power.
“Now is the time for her Supreme Majesty, the Empress Zanther, to approve these plans of battle. Your Majesty?”
He knew the Empress was cornered now. No excuses would be tolerated. She must act clearly, forcefully. Any doubt in her words or manner would provide the ammunition he needed to question her ability to govern.
The Empress paused for impact.
“I originally agreed on the all-out attack plan, when Supreme Commander Queksnar first presented it to me. Now I have changed my mind.”
Queksnar, Ivarna, and Xorax were caught off-guard by the unexpected pronouncement. A look of astonishment filled their countenances as tense centi-timeframes ticked by.
“I agree with Commander Queksnar that we should initiate simultaneous attacks on the colonies of the humans, Cettians and Terraeans,” Zanther continued, totally in control of the situation. “We know that the Alliance has been aware of our presence for some time now, and I am quite sure that the capital worlds will be very heavily defended, perhaps more than we originally believed. We should make the Alliance capital worlds secondary targets and designate the colony worlds in those systems as primary objectives.”
Queksnar broke in, “Yes, my Empress, I’m sure it would not be very hard to redistribute our forces to fit your new plan. In fact…”
“Commander Queksnar, I am not finished. I believe, instead of commencing an all-out frontal assault, we should take out the industrial and military production facilities on the colonies first. No direct attacks on civilian targets will be permitted. We will issue a warning to the Alliance: surrender or be destroyed. If their government does not give up within three Earth days…then we will conduct an all-out attack on their forces and population centers.”
Queksnar nodded. “My Empress, I trust your decision fully and I do not wish to question your authority, but tell me one thing. What has caused you to change your mind?”
“Yes,” Xorax broke in, “you know very well that a direct assault on their home worlds would provide the fastest route to success. It will allow us to display our full strength and make prospects for the Alliance’s surrender more likely.”
“Minister Xorax, an all-out attack is certain to cause unnecessary Rockoid deaths, exactly what I want to avoid. We suffered quite enough when the Alliance barbarians attacked Dorton,” Zanther replied.
Commander Ivarna spoke up. “Empress Zanther, our statistics clearly show the Alliance fleet is, at best, only half as strong as our own. Victory is assured.”
“Perhaps so, Commander, but statistics based on samples of data do not show how many ships the Alliance actually has. We also have no way of knowing how much of a fight the Alliance will mount. Furthermore, many non-aligned worlds in this part of the galaxy are said to be negotiating for membership in the Alliance; they may very well support our enemies in this struggle.”
Xorax protested angrily. “Empress Zanther, anything less than an all-out attack would be seen as an act of cowardice. I warn you now that I do not support this change of strategy!”
Zanther stared imperiously at her defense minister.
“Remember for one moment what your grandfather, Emperor Sakoris, said when he learned the Alliance had refused to abide by the Teldra Accords. He warned us all that the Alliance represented the greatest threat to galactic peace and stability. If Dorton did not convince you, remember what happened to the Jintorians when they encountered the Alliance. Those incidents, alone, should be enough to prove how much of a threat our enemy represents.”
Zanther’s comeback was swift, assured, and emphatic. “Do not forget, Minister, that my grandfather and father tried to establish more neutral policies toward the Alliance because they believed it did not represent a significant threat. As you know, the Alliance was asked to accept a series of treaties developed when not one of their races had yet discovered interstellar travel. Its conduct prior to the attack on Dorton is subject to many interpretations.”
Zanther gritted her teeth. “And furthermore, let me remind you that I am your Empress, and I will make the final decision.”
Quickly, Xorax bowed, as obsequiously as ever. “Yes, my Empress.”
Zanther turned to Ivarna before anyone else could protest. “Commander, I want you to take the super cruiser Indignant, along with fifty support cruisers, and head for Earth’s colonies at best speed. You will be directly commanding the forces attacking those planets.”
She turned to Queksnar. “Commander, you will stay here and take control of our remaining forces. When the time comes, we will go to Earth and command the main frontal assault on the Alliance from there.”
Xorax observed the proceedings with renewed respect for Zanther. Despite his deepest hope she would reveal signs of weakness, he could not help but be impressed at the authority with which she took command, and the carefully thought out strategies she voiced. As much as he wanted to assume the Rockoid throne himself, he had to admire her courage and her intelligence. She would indeed be a suitable mate for him, despite the vast difference in their ages; his lust intensified the more he considered the possibility. Xorax would continue biding his time, expressing his criticisms with the proper degree of respect.
Xerox remained, however, unaware of the inscrutable outside forces that had even now begun to possess his mind and his soul.
“One more thing.” Zanther interrupted his reverie. “Remember to take out the colonial production facilities only, Commander Ivarna. We are not attacking civilian targets unless it is absolutely necessary.”
The commander nodded in reply.
“The attack is to begin immediately. You are now all dismissed.”
Xorax, Ivarna, and Queksnar quickly walked out of the room. While she still had her private reservations about the need for such an invasion, Zanther knew that Xorax could use such doubts to his advantage. She had not accepted the mantle of leadership lightly. She often had to put aside her inner feelings and act in accordance with the needs of her people and requirements of the situation.
>
When it came to sending her people off to their deaths, she could not fully suppress her deep misgivings. Her late father shared the same sensitivities. She recalled how the Emperor often visited the family of a war casualty personally when he could or hold a private session in his chambers when large numbers were involved, to share a grief he accepted as his own.
Zanther knew he wasn’t just putting on a show for propaganda or to impress the people. He refused to have such sessions broadcast across Rockoid space and didn’t allow any journalists to interview any of the bereaved families.
Zanther’s expression was stern now. Without the slightest hesitation she got up, walked boldly and briskly out of the chamber, returning to her throne room.
As the fleet sped toward the scene of the upcoming conflict that would determine the fate of the Alliance, she began thinking about the human she continued to see in her dreams. It was an enigma she knew she must strive to understand. As her ship approached Earth, the dreams intensified. At times, it seemed this alien being wanted to reach out to her; she had to admit she wanted to reach out to him as well. She playfully sent telepathic messages to the alien, feeling he somehow understood her. She ached to get to the bottom of this mystery soon. Zanther had the deep feeling that if she didn’t understand the source of those dreams and deal with it, tragedy would result…a tragedy that could claim the lives of millions of beings from both civilizations.
Chapter 13
Ray remained in a bit of a funk over the next few weeks. His workdays were longer than ever, and he felt utterly exhausted by the end of the day.
His next task was the hardest of all. He had to qualify for a position in the Alliance military. Despite his extensive military background, that training barely counted for entry-level status in the twenty-third century. He had to enter the academy as just another cadet. They did agree to restore his rank of Captain if he successfully got through the intense training sessions and passed with a reasonably high grade. Although Ray acted as if it was a piece of cake, he knew he had to work harder than he ever had in his life to qualify.
Ray dove into the training sessions with an intensity he never knew he possessed. In short order, he began feeling strain in muscles he didn’t think existed. His martial arts experience helped him here, as many elements of those disciplines formed the core of the hand-to-hand combat procedures every Alliance cadet had to learn.
One afternoon, to Ray’s delight, Jennifer managed to get some time off work and arranged for him to be given the rest of the day off. She met him in the parking lot of the training center. As soon as they saw each other, they ran over to each other and embraced, like old friends who hadn’t seen each other in years.
Ray raised his eyebrows. “You’re sure I won’t get in trouble for ditching class?”
Jennifer laughed. “Don’t worry, Ray. I’ve already arranged everything with your instructors. The whole afternoon is ours.
“Now let’s split or whatever you call getting the hell out of this place in your time.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, they jumped into Jennifer’s hovercar, and sped off toward Atlanta. Ray drove this time, as he had finally gotten the chance to learn how to pilot a hovercar just a week or so before.
The hovercars practically did all the work for the driver. All one had to do was enter the proper identification codes to turn on the engine, reach cruising altitude, guide it with the steering stick once in a while, and the onboard computers would do the rest, assuming the car was on autopilot, a mode in which the craft practically drove themselves.
Before Ray actually received his license, Jennifer had to witness him enduring a successful driver’s test and he had to fill out numerous forms that dealt with the equivalent of auto insurance in the twenty-third century.
Scientists said we were going to become a paperless society. Yeah, sure, right.
As they made their way to Jennifer’s apartment, Ray’s wristview device interrupted his train of thought and announced, “You have one viewscreen message, Captain Perkins.”
“That’s a surprise. Who’s it from?” Ray asked.
“It is from Captain David Gotlieb. Authorization to play it?”
“Yes, go ahead.”
“One moment please.”
. The face of Captain Gotlieb appeared on Ray’s wristview, but the message was clear without the need for his commander to say anything more.
“Hi, old man, I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news for you.”
Ray’s heart sank. He looked at Jennifer, and it was clear she was on the same wavelength.
“The Rockoids just arrived over the colony worlds in the Tau Ceti, Terea, and Sol star systems. I understand they’ve already begun firing on military and industrial installations.”
Ray had to struggle to keep from losing control of the hovercar. His face stayed grim, his eyes showing an almost fearful look now that what he dreaded for so long seemed about to come to pass.
He tried to conjure up the image of Zanther, wondering just what sort of role she had to play in these attacks. Try as he might, no thoughts about her emerged in his conscious mind. It almost seemed as if the alien woman was otherwise occupied—in truth, she was, though Ray didn’t know that.
He turned towards Jennifer and saw she, too, had nearly lost her professional composure. For a second, he saw the suggestion of a tear in her eye, but she turned her head quickly.
Ray barely had a second to think however, as the message continued, “I never thought this would really happen. We’re gonna have to let you off training early. We need to know everything we can about your latest dreams, in case they affect the invasion, and our plans for defense. We’re checking the status of the Rockoid attack from satellite stations here in Brussels, and also on Taucon and Terea.”
Gotlieb continued his explanation with an impassive expression, but Ray could see worry in his eyes. Strange how he’d been able to pick up on the emotions of others so quickly. He wondered if those god-awful dreams had a role in it.
“You gotta come here to Brussels right now, Ray,” Gotlieb acted as if he’d rehearsed the speech over and over again before he called. “Join us at the Alliance’s military command center. We’re already preparing for a full scale defense, so you better hurry.”
Ray started considering the possibilities. “David, just how bad is it?”
“Let me say it’s going to get a whole lot worse before it gets better, old man. See you soon.”
The image of Gotlieb disappeared. Ray sat transfixed, wide-mouthed and wide-eyed. His worst nightmares were coming true, literally before his eyes.
* * *
A half hour later, Ray and Jennifer arrived at the Alliance command center in the outskirts of Brussels.
Once they left the parking area, they saw a large nondescript building looming across from them and far up into the sky above and quickened their pace. Once they were inside the building, they found their associates waiting impatiently for them.
Ray saw Captain Gotlieb and Dr. Johnson, who were accompanied by a blond-haired, blue-eyed woman with a dark silver uniform. They waved at their companions and walked toward them.
Ray realized the unidentified woman seemed very familiar, although he had no conscious recollection of meeting her before. He soon realized he had seen her in his dreams, but he couldn’t remember the exact role she played. The woman’s uniform had a large emblem on her shoulder that identified her as a commander. She also had a rather extensive collection of medals, no doubt reflecting the honors she had been accorded during her military career.
While she was tall, slender, quite attractive, she also radiated a level of authority that seemed far beyond her age. He guessed she was in her early forties at most, though her cream-white complexion made her appear much younger. Her steel blue eyes seemed penetrating, inquisitive and even a bit menacing.
Ray stared and a shudder of frightened recognition erupted in his spine. He tried to shield his reaction to the menacing s
tare.
Gotlieb introduced her. “I want you to meet Commander Elizabeth Thompson, one of the last remaining Alliance war heroes.”
Ray nodded and stepped up to her. With a forced smile, he saluted her and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
Commander Thompson, who only recently received a promotion to a rank just below Johnson’s, appeared to accept the greeting as if it had been expected, customary. She nodded formally and replied. Her voice was husky, battle-worn, with a distinct, uppercrust British accent, “It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Captain Perkins. I have heard quite a lot about you.”
“Positive, I hope, sir,” Ray replied as his mind began to conjure up the visions of this highly decorated military commander portrayed in his dreams.
Ray could barely contain himself. His worst fears had been confirmed. Thompson was indeed the very person who led the Alliance forces in the battle over Dorton. He couldn’t see her face in his dreams, but those eyes; he could feel their cold, calculating, menacing stare. For a moment, Ray wondered if she hadn’t realized he suspected her of being the treasonous aggressor in that savage battle, the instrument that brought upon this present war with the Rockoids.
How could the Alliance commanders not know? Was it all a gigantic conspiracy, a conspiracy that extended to the president’s office? Were they all hiding the truth from him and Alliance citizens?
A part of him still couldn’t believe what he felt deep down in his soul to be the awful truth. Maybe he could read the mind of a Rockoid, but how could he possibly observe events that Zanther didn’t see? The very idea seemed incredibly silly. He had always dismissed such prospects as superstition, the stuff of one’s overactive imagination.
Fortune tellers, Ouija boards, precognition … impossible!
Attack of the Rockoids Page 16