by T. R. Harris
“Yeah, she just fainted. Let the old girl rest.”
“Don’t let her hear you call her old. You may live to regret it.”
There was a sudden righting of the ship’s plane and Adam could see through the monitors lit up before him that the Pegasus was now blazing through the atmosphere of Elision, heading for the heavens. The gravity-well just off the forward section of the ship was drawing in the atmosphere from around them, creating a bubble of extremely low air pressure, allowing the Pegasus to bolt out of the atmosphere at a rate of speed that would melt other spaceships.
The transit from surface to space lasted only eight seconds before the Pegasus entered the vacuum of space and where Kaylor could initiate the deepest gravity-well ever recorded this close to the planet Elision. All their pursuers—and there were dozens—were left in the dust, grappling to understand what had just happened.
Fifteen minutes from the surface, the Pegasus was clear of all pursuit and blasting through space, alone and safe. At least for the time being….
Chapter 27
Although he remained in his luxurious stateroom aboard the UN-567, Wydor bin Sulic could still monitor the activity taking place on the bridge of his flagship. He also had access to all the monitors and data available to his officers. What he was seeing didn’t make any sense.
The defenders at the head of the Volseen Corridor were still growing in number. The computers automatically tallied the ships as they moved within monitoring range, and they now indicated over four thousand spacecraft, with more being added by the minute. The computers were also able to discern the gravity signatures of the ship’s drives, and it was this information that gave Wydor the most concern. None of the signatures matched those known to belong to Kracori warships.
All the defenders were ships from other Nebula worlds, and although they appeared to smaller and ill-equipped to counter the Juirean invasion of the Dysion Void, it also meant that the Kracori forces would be fully-intact and waiting for them on the other side of the Corridor.
Even though Wydor admired the Kracori strategy of sending expendable units up first while preserving their own forces, he wondered what attrition rate he would see within his own fleet just trying to pass through the haze of ragtag defenders spread out before him? This circumstance was not something the Council or the military planners had foreseen. The Kracori had kept hidden from the rest of the Nebula. It should only have been them that his fleet engaged, and not this incredible number of disposable fodder, evidently designed to inflict as much damage on the Juireans in yet a losing cause. The Juireans may win this battle, yet at the price of losing the war.
Wydor left his stateroom and went to the bridge. Even though he knew Command-Overlord Enulic would consider it a distraction, the Juirean Elder had to confirm that his fleet commander also saw the trap being set for them.
The stern and concerned look on Enulic’s face spoke volumes. Units from both fleets had barely engaged. Normally it would be too early to carry such an expression on the face of the commander.
“Have you developed a counter strategy?” Wydor asked, giving his Fleet Commander the benefit of the doubt that he would understand the question.
“They intend for us to remain here and eliminate this fleet, no matter the cost. I propose we do not.”
“Explain.”
There was a grouping of other high-level Overlords gathered around the Command-Overlord. They had obviously been in discussion with Enulic when the Elder arrived on the bridge. “We are working on a strategy at this time.”
Enulic led his entourage to a flat tactical table which mirrored the larger screen at the head of the bridge. The graphic clearly showed the space between a series of three stars that constituted the entrance to the Volseen Corridor. Even though ‘corridor’ was not the appropriate word for the gap in the relatively thin Shield wall surrounding the Void, it did demonstrate how over time these stars had cleared the stellar ejecta to open a pathway into the interior.
And it was within these closely aligned star systems where the bulk of the defenders were stationed. Sending units into these systems to chase down and destroy the ships of the Nebula, with the parity in numbers both sides enjoyed, would only cause further delay and more casualties. On the other hand, attempting to run the gauntlet down the center of the Corridor would allow the defenders to strip off valuable assets from the edges of the fleet, until only a sliver of the full force remained by the time they encountered the Kracori.
“We must find a way to get the bulk of our fleet inside the Void without suffering undue attrition,” Lord Enulic said, stating the problem before them. “Suggestions?”
Another of the Overlords reached out a long, boney finger and traced a line on the screen along the left side of the Corridor. The screen traced his movements with a white line. “If we skirted along only one side of the Corridor with the bulk of our forces, then the defenders on the other side would have to leave their shelters to engage us. By the time they arrive on station, we would already be through.”
“And what of the defenders closest to our path” asked another of the senior Overlords. There was no condescension in his voice, only curiosity.
“We will take casualties; that is guaranteed. Yet if we could supply a buffer between us and the defenders, then we could preserve our best and strongest units for the Kracori.”
“The arrows?” Wydor asked.
The young Overlord with the ideas thought for a moment, feeling no intimidation keeping the leader of the Juirean race waiting for a reply. “We have several hundred of these units. They are quick and agile, and could inflict disproportionate damage on the defenders, distracting them from their main targets, namely the Class 4’s and higher. However, we would lose them all in the maneuver, including their crews.”
All eyes turned to Enulic. “That is acceptable. These units were designed for possible suicide missions. The loss of the entire squadron would still be less than the destruction of one Class 4.”
The Command-Overlord huddled over the tactical screen again. This time it was his finger that drew the lines. “We feign a separation of our forces to each side of the Corridor, causing the defenders to pull back further into their protective systems. Our strongest units will be along this line; the quicker ships to the opposite. In the meantime, we deploy the arrows along this line, as Overlord Krymic has suggested. At the appropriate time, the quicker contingent pulls away and races through the Corridor, while the arrows engage the defenders along this line. Our stronger units will do their best not to engage the enemy, rather letting the arrows serve as Lord Krymic’s buffer. Once through, our units will reassemble and proceed to Elision at flank speed.”
“And what of the Nebula defenders? Will they not follow?” another of the officers asked.
Lord Krymic spoke up again. “Undoubtedly, yet the superior speed of our fleet will keep them at bay. And once we engage the Kracori around their homeworld, the ally defenders from the Nebula may not wish to confront us while their protectors are being destroyed en masse. It is only the myth of Kracori battle-worthiness that is giving their allies the will to fight. Once that myth has been shattered, the alliance will dissolve as quickly as it formed.”
“You sound rather sure of your analysis, Lord Krymic,” Wydor said.
“Yes, My Lord,” Krymic said evenly. “Either we trust in this outcome ... or we retreat from the Nebula. If we are to resume our position in the galaxy, the Kracori must be destroyed, at whatever cost as is necessary. Retreat will only serve to further damage our own myth.”
Wydor raised an eyebrow at the blunt nature of the junior Overlord’s statement. However, blunt as it was, the statement was true. The Juirean fleet could not withdraw. That action would be worse than suffering total defeat at the hands of a numerically superior force. The Juireans had additional assets, just none on station. The destruction of the Blood Fleet would be tragic, yet not devastating. Retreat would be, even though considerable assets would be
spared for future battles. It was the myth and the reputation of the Juirean war machine that required a resurrection. Fighting to the death, while inflicting incalculable damage on the enemy, would preserve the Juirean myth.
The young Overlord could see that, and from the determined looks on the other officers at the tac table, Wydor could tell they believed as well.
“Very good, Lord Krymic. Of course it is Command-Overlord Enulic’s ultimate decision....”
“I concur, My Lord,” Enulic said quickly. “We must fight to win, and lacking that, we must leave the Kracori much weaker and damaged in their own right.”
“And what of the Humans?” one of the others asked.
Wydor looked away, toward the vast viewport at the forward section of the bridge. Only stars appeared through the port, with no other Juirean spacecraft visible at this distance. It appeared as though the UN-567 was alone in space, rather than at the head of a massive fleet of deadly warcraft. “The final demise of the Human race may have to wait for another time,” Wydor finally said without looking from the viewport. “In the meantime, we will allow them to solve the Kracori problem for us. The galaxy is large, and there will be time for us to regain our leadership of the Expansion. We know where the Humans live. They will be there when we are ready.”
Chapter 28
Nomar Polimic had suffered a broken arm in the destruction of his capital building, the worst injury experienced by any of his senior staff in the viewing room. He felt diminished by the injury; even Daninf had escaped unscathed.
When the rumbling began, Nomar had been quickly moved to a lower vault in the building, one designed specifically to protect the Langril against an attack on the Citadel. Emerging an hour later after learning the true nature of the attack, Nomar was so angry he was sick. He vomited twice in the shattered hallways, each time only serving to increase his anger and his anxiety. Although underlings came to assist him, he felt no embarrassment at his uncontrollable illness. He did not have time to be embarrassed.
The military command headquarters, located a few blocks from the Citadel, had escaped the attack undamaged, and Nomar set up his temporary office within the building. Once settled in, with a blue cast wrapping his injured left arm, it didn’t take long for the series of events over the past few hours to be deciphered.
Somehow, the Humans had gained access to the surface of Elision, and not only that, but right outside the Citadel. And then in a reckless and brazen maneuver, the Humans had used the gravity drive of their spacecraft to destroy most of the central building. Experts poured over the data from various sensors around the complex, and found that the gravity drive of the unknown craft was of an odd and unique quality, one which allowed the attackers to control the effects of the gravity-well with more precision than thought possible.
And then another hour later, Nomar received disturbing news that the Human ship had been passed through to the surface by one of his own Vice-Commanders, ostensibly to be offered to him as a gift. The details of the exchange escaped logic, and when the Vice-Commander could not be located in the aftermath, Nomar assumed he had been killed in the attack. The possibility that a Kracori officer could have been involved in a treasonous act did not even cross his mind.
As for the Human prisoners, they were nowhere to be found, not even their shattered bodies in the wreckage. Video surveillance had showed that the alien spacecraft had actually landed on the remains of the capital building; Adam Cain and the others must have made their escape at that time.
And escape they did. Further data showed how the alien spaceship had bolted through the atmosphere of Elision at a rate far higher than thought possible, and then once clear, had warped space to such a degree that the spacecraft had essentially vanished from the monitors. No known spacecraft was capable of such speeds, and especially not within a stellar system. And yet no residual gravitational effects were tracked from the passage of the craft.
Even through his anger, as well as the pain in his arm, the existence of such a craft worried Nomar to the core. This signaled a major breakthrough in propulsion technology, and worst of all, it was present in a Human-controlled spaceship.
Unfortunately, Langril Nomar only had a few moments to contemplate the consequences of a Human fleet comprised of superships within the overall scheme of events taking place within the Nebula. His military commanders had suddenly become very agitated, and were now demanding his attention.
The monitoring equipment within his capital building was now in shambles, and Nomar had not had an update on the battle being waged at the head of the Volseen Corridor for nearly three hours. Now the commanders were anxious to fill him in, and they looked nervous as they began.
Command-Tactician Galix Junin was the supreme military commander on the planet Elision. In the hierarchy of the Kracori power structure, he was only four steps below the Langril, with the other two positions held solely within the Ludif Council. Nomar joined Galix, as well as about a dozen other ranking officers, in the Combat Planning Center.
“Update, Tactician,” Nomar commanded. “I have to assume you have carried on even through the turmoil that has transpired recently.”
“Of course, my Ludif. I will show you where we stand at this moment.” Galix stepped up to the large screen in the CPC displaying the battle at the entrance to the Volseen Corridor in a dynamic and stark reality.
At first, all Nomar could see was mish-mash of clustered targets, both allied and Juirean. “Is the battlefield in such disarray intentionally? I fail to see a pattern.”
“The battle has not gone exactly according to plan, my Ludif,” Galix admitted.
Nomar’s mouth fell open. In light all that had happened recently, this was not news he could handle graciously. “Do not delay, Galix, complete your report!” he barked at his senior military officer.
There was only a moment’s delay as Galix composed himself after the Langril’s outburst; the Command-Tactician was not some common underling of the Landril’s, and therefore was not accustomed to such a disrespectful tone. “It appeared at first that the Juireans would pursue the allies into their systems as planned, yet that has not transpired. Rather, they sent out a screen of small, very fast vessels along the Volseen side of the Corridor and then passed large numbers of their capital ships through before they could be stopped.”
“The Juireans have entered the Void?” Nomar could not remain seated. He jumped up and neared the large monitor. “How many?”
“Most, my Ludif,” Galix answered. “With many traveling along one side of the Corridor, the opposite side defenders could not get there in time to assist those within the Volsee system. And the small Juirean units forming the screen have proved to be more suicidal than true warcraft. The allied units have suffered extraordinary losses to these small ships.”
“Have we not stopped any of their capital ships?”
“Some, yet most of the larger Juirean ships are electing not to engage the allies, but rather enter to the Void on full power.”
“Where are the Juireans now?”
Galix highlighted a section of the screen at the lower right with a control stick. “They are regrouping near Naylic.”
“And what of the Nebula forces? They are pursuing are they not?”
“Yes, my Ludif, yet the Juirean ships are faster. If they choose not to engage the defenders, then the Juireans can advance on Elision with clear space before them.”
“Clear except for Kracori forces, Tactician!” Nomar exclaimed. “When will you move to engage?”
“My staff is working on the strategy at this time, my Ludif. The original plan of leading the surviving Juirean units to our killing zones is no longer viable. The Juireans will be too strong to be guided. And it also appears that they have a singular goal of reaching Elision in the shortest time possible, even with massive forces in pursuit.”
“To what end, Galix?” Nomar asked as he studied the screen with more understanding than before. “With the combined forces of t
he Kracori and our allies, the Juireans will be bottled in, with no path for retreat.”
“That is correct,” Galix stated flatly.
A moment later the implication of the Juirean strategy became clear to Nomar. “They intend to fight to the last ship?”
“They have left themselves with no other option,” the Tactician added.
“Have you analyzed scenarios for this strategy?”
“Not completely, my Ludif. Yet it does not take much analysis to conclude that both sides will suffer catastrophic losses. Command had not planned for the Juireans to sacrifice their entire fleet to defeat us. That is not how they have fought in the past.”
“Galix, I need alternatives, and quickly. There must be a way to defeat the Juireans.”
“Langril Nomar, we will defeat the Juirean fleet; that is inevitable. We will emerge as the victors in this new series of battles.” Galix paused and then looked directly into the eyes of the supreme Kracori. “However, we will be only a shadow of what we once were before the engagement. The toll will be tragic, and we will survive with a fleet about as large that of the Volsee or the Tel’orans.”
Nomar felt a cold shiver pass through his body. A new thought had just invaded his consciousness. He had to speak the words, even though he knew the answer even before asking the question. “What of the Humans? They are only a few months away. Can we rebuild our fleet in time?” He didn’t feel this was the time to tell the Tactician about the supership the Human Adam Cain was now in control of. There were far more pressing issues facing them all in the present.
“We will not be able to mount an effective defense against them. It had already been determined that the Humans possess a superior fleet to the Juireans. And now after this ... we will have nothing with which to counter them. I am sorry, my Ludif, but the Kracori race will not survive the coming Human invasion.”
Nomar Polimic, Langril of the Kracori race, fell back into his seat. He no longer felt the throbbing pain in his broken arm. In fact, he felt nothing. He was numb—exhausted, defeated and numb.