Alien Revolt (Clans of Kalquor Book 11)

by Tracy St. John

Feeling as if someone was playing the stupidest joke in the universe, Piras repeated the other Dramok’s unbelievable words. “Attack Haven and Rokan’s defenses within three days? No. It is absolutely, unequivocally impossible.”

  Perhaps sensing Piras verged on one of his infamous meltdowns, Sitrel hunched in his chair at the head of the long table. “The Basma is adamant that we must move quickly while we still have the upper hand and before Kalquor can send in more ships.”

  Piras took a deep breath. Then another. One thing kept him from going into a full rant at the moment, besides the intent gaze of Borey Nath. Even if he had been on Maf’s side, in one hundred percent agreement with the revolt, he’d still have plenty of grounds to disagree with the outrageous timetable.

  Under the watchful eye of Kila’s weapons commander Nobek Mostar, Piras shifted in his chair. He’d started the meeting in a bad mood because of the Earther environment. The chair was made too small for a man of his height, forcing his knees to bend at an awkward angle. The room was overly warm, as well as lit too brightly. The discomfort made his temper tilt that much closer to fraying.

  He inhaled three deep breaths of the musty air which told him the conference room got little use. Four. With his heart rate steadying, Piras bit out, “Did you not send the Basma my report? It clearly stated the Empire’s fleet could not spare any more ships to defend Haven and Rokan than are already in place. Once Rel Station sent in what they had, that was it. What you see facing us right now is all there will be.”

  It was Nath’s turn to react. “Is this true? Why was I not informed of this intelligence, Dramok Sitrel?”

  Perhaps Nath, with his calm voice, didn’t frighten Sitrel as much as Piras’s explosive temper. Sitrel used an angry tone to answer him. “You didn’t need to know because Admiral Piras will be in command of the offensive, General. This is what our meeting is about. I will communicate to you both the Basma’s wishes. It is up to Piras and yourself to figure out the best way to accomplish them.”

  Nath’s brows rose slowly, creasing his forehead. Piras would have cheered the general on if he’d decided to throttle Sitrel at that moment. Sitrel, the dumb fuck, apparently had no clue how dangerous the Earther was, quiet demeanor or no. His idiocy deserved execution.

  Amused by the idea of Nath making Sitrel pay for his stupidity, Piras found the calm he needed. Miracle of miracles, he was able answer in a reasonable tone. “We most certainly will carry out the Basma’s hope to conquer Haven and Rokan. But not until the assault is fully planned to prevent any chance of failure. I must be apprised of our combined forces, their strength, complement, availability of fighters—every detail is important.”

  Nath relaxed and even twitched a hint of a smile at Piras. “Agreed. There is a reason why our diversion in attacking Haven and Rokan was just that—a diversion, and not an outright attempt to win those colonies.”

  “Can you elaborate, General?” Piras asked, ignoring Sitrel as he deserved.

  “From the Earther side of the equation, we have several issues which need to be addressed. First and foremost would be the condition of our ships.”

  “But your battlecruisers are fortresses. In a two-on-one, or even three-on-one situation, with the numerical advantage on the Kalquorian side, our destroyers can’t always stand against your warships.”

  Nath’s shoulders straightened with pride. “It is true the battlecruisers at full strength are formidable. However, most of them have been under constant operation for years now. No more than the most basic of maintenance has been available in that time. Some are in poor condition, if you want the fact of the matter.”

  “Are you saying they’re more of a bluff than a threat?” Piras asked.

  “A few fit that description, and those are the ones I brought here. Again, I anticipated this attack to be only a diversionary tactic. Besides the Sword of Truth, which is in better shape than most, you’re seeing the worst of what we have left of our fleet.”

  “My information at the time was also that this was no more than a distraction. Mounting a real, colony-winning attack was never the objective as far as I knew.” Piras shot Sitrel a withering glare, hoping to make him squirm. He gave Nath a kinder expression. “I accord no fault to you for what you brought. Are the battlecruisers in shape for any kind of a fight?”

  Nath grimaced slightly. His nod seemed reluctant to Piras. “Most of these ‘cruisers would still give the Empire’s forces here a hell of a fight. As a supplement to your attack fleet, I think they’d be enough to help win the Basma his colonies. Yet you should know they are damaged from battles with Tragooms, Kalquorian destroyers, and other hostile encounters. They’ve seen better days.”

  Piras considered. “How are you set up on your single and dual-manned fighters?”

  Nath sighed. “Again, the news could be better. Like the ‘cruisers, we’re facing many of the same issues with our smaller craft. It’s been damned hard to get hold of replacement parts or manufacture them ourselves.” He took another breath, as if gathering strength for the next reveal. “There’s another problem as well. We’re lacking in fighter pilots and ‘cruiser crews.”

  “I thought the ground forces from our side were supplementing you with the men you need?”

  “The Kalquorians have made up the difference for our shortage of crews, at least where the numbers are concerned. Once they are fully trained, I have no doubt they will be of great help. But many are not schooled in our mechanics or technology yet, so there’s that. It’s taking time to acclimate the majority of them to our operating systems.”

  Sitrel groused, “One wonders why the Basma bothered with you Earthers at all, General.”

  Piras shot him a withering glare. “Because the Basma needs everything available. I have the suspicion our ships are also suffering from numerous battles and few options to repair the damage done to them. Not to mention our destroyer crews are also short-manned. You recruited far more ground troops than fleet personnel, Sitrel.”

  “The ground troops are being trained to make up for the lack.”

  “Which puts us in the same exact position as General Nath’s men. We’re having to depend on men who are experts in fighting, not flying.”

  Sitrel scowled at him. “You should light a fire under those captains’ asses who haven’t seen to it that our forces are properly prepared.”

  Piras snarled as his temper again began to rise. “Speaking of people not seeing to their duties, I’m still waiting for Captain Kila’s vessel to be tied into the system. It’s damned hard for me to do my job making sure the captains are doing their jobs when you don’t do your job, Dramok.”

  “I put in the order. I wasn’t aware your flagship still hadn’t been linked. I’ll see to it as soon as I get back to my vessel.”

  Piras narrowed his gaze at the man. As the leader of the traitorous attack force, the admiral required access to the system which interconnected the Kalquorians ships to each other. As a spy, he needed that same connection even more. The system granted quick and seamless integration of the fighting force’s computer programs, keeping them fully informed of all movements and commands.

  Was Sitrel deliberately keeping Piras out? If so, why? Was Maf suspicious of him after all?

  Piras let the matter go, feeling if he were to have an actual fight with the Basma’s right hand man, it should be for a better reason. “It’s clear at this time, we are not ready to take on the Empire’s defenses, Dramok. Three days is out of the question. You can pass along the answer and my reasons to the Basma at your earliest convenience. You can also give him the message I will do all in my power to execute a triumphant attack as soon as it is feasible.”

  Sitrel’s glower made his lean face more unattractive than ever before. As he stewed over the news he no doubt did not want to share with his leader, Nath gave Piras an approving nod. “I concur with your decision, Admiral. I will do my utmost to continue the training of your men on our ships so we can offer greater support to the Basma’s obje
ctives. I will send you daily reports on their progress. That way, you can be assured we are doing everything in our power to meet your needs.”

  Regret stabbed at Piras. Nath was an intelligent and capable officer, a man of honor. It was a tragedy to be in opposition to him.

  Sitrel wasn’t done being sullen. “How long do you recommend before the attack?”

  “At this time, I can’t say. As I told you, I need in-depth reports on the ships which are in the best repair. I have to know which vessels possess the most able, experienced crews, on both the destroyers and the battlecruisers. Those will be the forces put on the front line, to take out our enemies the quickest.”

  “The Basma is most eager to get this done as soon as possible.” Sitrel made it a threat.

  Piras hid a smirk at the other Dramok’s pathetic attempt to bully. “Understood. But it would be quite the embarrassment – not to mention crippling to our cause – if we were to lose to the Empire’s smaller force simply because we were impatient. I much prefer to cover myself in glory because we won thanks to a well-executed campaign.”

  Nath was quick to support him. “As would I. I will perform an intensive review of the ‘cruisers and their crew capabilities. I will have a report to you in two days, Admiral. Every weakness as well as every strength will be detailed to provide our likelihood of victory.”

  Piras smiled at him, again feeling a twinge of regret. “Excellent. I will learn the strength and weaknesses of our forces as well, once Dramok Sitrel does his part. We’ll meet again as soon as I have the needed information. I will then decide if more time is required to ready our forces and solidify our plans to take Haven and Rokan. Dramok?”

  “I will report to the Basma what you have told me. Do not expect him to be pleased, Admiral.” On that angry note, Sitrel stood and left without the customary bow of respect.

  Piras couldn’t suppress a rueful chuckle as the door shut behind the irate man. “It would appear I have not made my superiors happy, General. How will yours take this delay?”

  Nath’s smirk was as sheepishly amused. He tapped on the computer in front of him, displaying a few vids for Piras’s inspection. “The Holy Leader may feel a bit impatient, but he trusts me. I think he will accept the decision to wait until we have all the facts we need.”

  “Good. Ah, thank you for these reports. Are these your observations of the defenses?”

  “They are. I think you’ll find this configuration on the right flank particularly interesting, Admiral.”

  They settled down to work, picking out their opponents’ weaknesses and strengths. As they talked, Piras had too many instances to be impressed by Nath’s abilities as a military leader. Too many opportunities to feel those stabs of remorse that they were fighting at cross-purposes.

  It made Piras think how awful life was that decent-seeming men often chose to champion the wrong causes.

  * * * *

  Having investigated the Sword of Truth’s fighters, engineering section, and weapons controls, Kila strode through the battlecruiser’s corridors, making his way to where he expected Piras to be meeting with General Nath. He had an overwhelming urge to check on his Dramok’s welfare despite knowing Mostar would have accompanied Piras. It wasn’t that he didn’t have the greatest of faith in his weapons commander. Kila would have trusted Mostar with his own life. A clanmate’s well-being—well, that was another matter altogether, especially in the midst of so many enemies.

  Kila slowed as he neared a door flanked by two armed guards. Curious as to what they might be keeping watch over, he read the sign next to the door: Coding and Interception. Underneath it, someone had affixed a piece of paper with a handwritten scrawl, which proclaimed it to be Hacker Heaven.

  Kila frowned. ‘Coding and Interception’ had a secretive nuance to it. Even without the guards, it would have drawn his interest. The Hacker Heaven notation made much less sense. He knew about the Earther’s religious conception of heaven, but hacking brought up images of chopping up enemies on a battlefield. The notion appealed to a Nobek of his bent, but he thought it wasn’t such a good fit for Earther sensibilities.

  He didn’t hesitate for long, though his desire to check on Piras tried to make him think twice. “Don’t fuck up, Mostar,” he growled. Hoping everything was all right with his Dramok, he walked through the door to see what waited beyond it.

  He found himself in a far more comfortably-lit room than the rest of the ship. The heavy scent of coffee, along with Earthers of various stages of cleanliness, filled the air. Low-voiced conversation was punctuated by the occasional muted laugh. The illumination was dim, but it made sense given the vast banks of computer vids and projections casting their bluish hue over the twenty or so faces attending them.

  Kila initially identified it as some sort of control hub. Earthers in brown uniforms with identifying tags pinned to their chests hunched over keyboards. The continuous taps from busy fingers sounded like a march of the smallest troops in existence. In the center front of the long rows of computer stations hung displays. Kila scanned the vast amounts of data and algorithms. Charts of Haven and Rokan colonies’ layouts, along with a graphic of the defensive cordon of vessels standing in the way of those installations, predominated the readouts. There was also a large vid exhibiting the standard schematics of a Kalquorian destroyer, its weaponry and engines highlighted.

  Kila wandered among the rows of operatives, pausing to examine the work of each one. After a few minutes, he realized the department’s main function: intercepting communications between the colonies and Kalquorian vessels. And not just the transmissions of the enemy. The Earthers were recording and attempting to decode the coms conveyed between the Basma’s ships.

  That wasn’t all they were trying to do, he realized as he took a closer look at one man’s work. They were trying to attain sensitive operation codes of the destroyers.

  “But do you want to gain control or wipe the codes out?” Kila asked the blissfully unaware Earther frowning over his access denied warnings. “Here’s hoping none of you are as talented as Piras in that regard. Although it would be funny as hell to have the Basma’s fleet crippled by his own allies!”

  Kila mentally added to his to-do list. He’d have to program additional protections for his ship’s systems. The last thing he needed on this mission was his ship going offline because some Earther stumbled upon a weakness in the destroyer’s computer routines.

  Kila continued his observations, moving a little faster as he decided he’d gotten the essential scope of Coding and Intercept’s operations. He was almost ready to move on when a familiar face stopped him next to a computer station.

  It belonged to the young woman who’d walked into Piras the day before. In the bluish light of her readout, on which a translation program deciphered Kalquorian words into Earther English, her face was intent to the point of appearing angry. Even with her near-irate expression, Kila’s gaze took in her high cheekbones, tiny chin, and smooth skin. He eyed her with a man’s appreciation. He felt sure she was stunning when she smiled.

  Shaking himself out of contemplating things he had no business thinking about, Kila made himself stop staring at the woman. He switched his attention to the work she did and chuffed soft laughter as he glanced at the characters on her screen.

  “You’re going to be pissed off when you figure out you’re decoding a kitchen manifest,” he said. “You’ll figure it out soon enough. Hopefully, you didn’t waste too much of your time on that ship’s shortage of chafga and bywes.”

  She realized what she was gazing at the next second. A growl of disgust rose from between her pursed lips. Her fingers beat a swift tattoo over the keyboard, bringing up another transcript.

  As she ran her program, a small icon flashed at the corner of her screen, so quickly that Kila couldn’t note what it was. The woman never paused in her typing, though her eyes moved from side to side in a quick, secretive assessment of her surroundings. While one hand continued to furiously type,
the other dipped into her tunic’s pocket. It emerged with a recording drive.

  “Access and record incoming file,” she whispered into the microphone on her headset, plugging the drive into her computer. Her voice was so low that Kila strained to hear it. Her lips had barely moved. The drive was attached to her instrumentation for a mere second before she removed it and slipped it back into her pocket. “Erase recorded file.”

  She was back to typing with both hands. The whole of the operation had taken less than five seconds. Kila stared at the determined face with respect and surprise.

  “Well, well, young lady. What is it you downloaded, I wonder? That action didn’t seem as if it were general operating procedure. I haven’t seen anyone else in here perform the same little task.”

  Kila didn’t imagine she’d intercepted anything besides perhaps a clandestine communication from a friend. Or perhaps lover? He knew not all Earthers were as repressed as the Holy Leader’s regime had tried to force them to be. Still, he thought it worthwhile to check on the woman’s illicit doings.

  He moved his phase device from his uniform to his hand. When the small tool came in touch with the drive, it phased too, making it no trouble to fish out of her pocket. Kila plugged it into his handheld and copied whatever information she’d downloaded. His operation was as fast as hers had been. In no time at all, he was replacing the drive in her pocket, with her none the wiser it had gone missing for such a short time.

  As he drew back, he gave her another close going over. Piras was right; she did have more than a passing resemblance to General Nath. The eyes, the black hair, the rounded cheeks which begged him to trace their curve with his thumb…

  “No, I don’t want to stroke the general’s cheek,” he chuckled, amused with himself. “But I would stroke yours, along with whatever else is under that ugly, oversized uniform. You are a pretty little lady.”

  He glanced at her identification tag and read H. Nath.

  Nath.

  “Even if it’s a common name among Earthers, it’s too much damned coincidence,” Kila muttered. “And taking secret messages to boot? You just became a lot more fascinating to me, woman.”