by T. R. Harris
“I now have a broadband inquiry coming over, Adam!” Jym cried out.
“Unknown craft: identify yourself immediately,” the very official and no-nonsense voice blasted from the speakers in the pilothouse.
“I’ll take the comm over here,” Adam said as he slipped into the observation seat and toggled a switch.
Adam smiled. “Captain Adam Cain, aboard the private vessel Pegasus. I’m really glad to hear your voice,” he said into the room.
There was an inordinately long delay before a response came through the speakers. “Repeat your last. Response not understood.”
“This is Captain Adam Cain aboard the Pegasus. Please check your grav-sig readings. We are in a concentrated-array vessel, same as you. None of the hostiles carry such a signature.”
Again there was a long delay. “Wait one. I am patching you through to fleet command.”
A moment later another voice came over the speakers. “This is Admiral Christian Bergmann. Please confirm your identity.”
Andy Tobias stepped up next to Adam. “I’ll take this, Captain. Chris, I hope they have a putting green and drive simulator aboard that tub. But even with more practice, I’ll still beat you by ten strokes.”
“Andy—you son-of-a-bitch—you guys made it!”
“You sound surprised; just another extraction, the bread and butter of SEAL ops.”
“Yeah, but for the young pups, not old dogs like you.”
“Can you pass us through? It sure will be nice to see you again.”
“As we speak, Admiral. Follow the escorts. We’ll take you in landing bay P-2. By the way, have you seen those big motherfuckers we’re following?”
“They’re Klin, if you haven’t already figured that out.”
“That was our assessment, too. Get aboard, Admiral Tobias; I’m sure we have a lot to talk about. And did you get Mr. Tarazi? Any casualties?”
“Roger on both, Chris. We lost John Tindal.”
“Sorry to hear that. I have one of his CD’s. And the Master Chief?”
“Safe and sound, Admiral,” Rutledge spoke up.
They heard a laugh through the speakers. “I am so glad to hear that, Chief. Sorry about Tindal.”
“Died doing what he loved, sir.”
“Hur-rah.”
“Hur-rah, sir. See you soon.”
“Bergmann out.”
Chapter 32
Command-Tactician Galix was on his feet, his hands clenching and unclenching. His eyes were wide and his mouth only a tiny circle in his tense, gray face. Nomar could see the huge military officer was close to physically accosting his own Langril.
“Stand down Tactician!”
Still Galix hovered near the desk, glaring at Nomar.
“Galix, calm yourself. Let us hear him out.” It was Daninf pleading for reason. Nomar was relieved to see Galix break his attack-stare to glance at Daninf.
“You do not concur with the Langril, do you?”
“I have not heard enough of his plan to decide either way, and neither have you. Please. Back off your stance. This is the Langril of the Kracori you are stalking.”
“I once believed that. Not now.”
“Tactician, you must hear me out. There is logic in my argument.”
“The Kracori do not surrender!”
“I realize that,” Nomar said. He had removed a small laser weapon from a hidden compartment under the desk and now held it his right hand. The weapon could kill the Tactician, if it struck just the right area. Otherwise it would still cause considerable pain. Whether that would stop a Kracori warrior so incensed, he was not sure.
Finally, Galix stepped back from the desk. He walked to a corner of the room and turned to face the two Kracori politicians. “I will listen. Yet if I feel you are acting against the well-being of the Kracori people, I will end this conspiracy immediately and suffer the consequences as they come.”
Even though Nomar was relieved that Galix had held back his attack, what he truly regretted at the time was inviting him to the meeting in the first place. He should have revealed his plan to Daninf first and gauged his reaction before bringing in the more-excitable military officer.
“Ludif Galix, everything I propose is for the good of the Kracori people,” Nomar said. He felt annoyed that he had to convince others as to the worthiness of his plan. In Nomar’s opinion, they had no option.
“Your own analysis—given to me only hours ago—show how the Kracori will eventually succumb to the Human assault, even though we will survive that of the Juireans. If we do nothing, the Humans will salt the surface of Elision after killing every last one of us. The planet—our homeworld—will cease to exist as a viable location for advanced life. Nevermore will a Kracori walk upon its surface. Only by following my plan will we have a chance to survive. Do you elect extinction over the alternative?”
“Do you not understand Legend, Langril Nomar Polimic? Without Legend there will be no survival.”
“That is nonsense, Galix. A race of dead beings has no Legend. Legend only exists if the Kracori exist to note the Legend of their fellow beings. After we are all gone, who will record the Legend of the Kracori?”
“Yet you propose surrender to the Juireans. We can defeat the Juireans!”
“Yes we can, but not then the Humans.”
“You are not even allowing us a chance, Nomar. You have assumed our defeat.”
“It was you who initially told me of this, Galix. Do you now amend your assessment?”
Nomar watched as the Tactician struggled internally for an answer. After a moment, Galix appeared to slump some in his posture, and he made a quick nod of his head. “No, I do not amend.”
“So a rational assessment shows that within a few short months, the Kracori will be extinct, following the current timeline.”
“Can we not evacuate much of the population before the Humans arrive?” Daninf said, trying to find a middle ground on which to rest their hopes.
“And where would we go, Daninf?” Nomar asked. “We are not like the Juireans who controlled an empire with thousands of worlds from which they could find refuge.”
“And our fleet will be depleted to such a degree that very few could even be given passage.”
Nomar was surprised—and relieved—to hear Galix offer his input. His initial shock and anger had passed; now he had only his logical, professional mind to cope with the reality of the situation.
“Tactician Galix,” Nomar began, “you must realize that the term surrender is used here as merely a placeholder for a more complicated relationship I hope to broker with the Juireans. I have many approaches to take, and all of them offer us a better future than doing nothing at all.”
“I wish to accompany you to meet the Juireans,” Daninf stated firmly.
“I, too,” said Galix.
“I will take Daninf, but not you, Galix. You are our supreme military commander. I wish us to appear completely at the mercy of the Juireans and offer myself as security for the confab. If the meeting goes badly, then you, Galix, will have to carry out our defeat of the Juireans, and then do what you can against the Humans. You are too valuable to risk on this overture.”
“And the Langril of the Kracori is not?”
“I am a political figure, Tactician. I talk; you fight.”
Nomar turned to his friend and mentor. “You may amend your offer, my Ludif. There will be no shame.”
Daninf smiled, a weak, almost forlorn smile. “I am old, Nomar. I have one last campaign ahead of me. This will be for the survival of our race. I do not wish to amend.”
“Good. It is agreed. Now we must get to the ship. The meeting of our two forces is only hours away. If we are to prevent this, we must go now.”
Chapter 33
Command-Overlord Enulic stared unbelieving at the messenger before him.
The campaign had been long and hard, and the prospect of losing his entire force—including his own life—was weighing on his mind. Yet was he also
beginning to hear things that had not been said?
“Repeat the message,” he said slowly.
“It is from Nomar Polimic, the Langril—leader of the Kracori people.”
“I know what the Langril is. Continue.”
“He reports that he is in a ship heading for the fleet. He desires a meeting with you. He comes alone, except for a creature called Daninf, who has been identified as the prior Langril.”
“So I am to believe that the leader of the Kracori is coming to us ... unescorted.”
“That is the message, my Lord. He requests docking instructions—”
“No! He is not to bring a vessel near the flagship. Order him to a point midway between our forces. I will send a Juirean ship to bring him. Relay that message and then bring me his reply.”
Enulic fingered a control on his comm band. “Yes, Lord Enulic.”
“My Lord, I have just had the most extraordinary communication relayed to me.”
“The content?”
“It is from Langril Nomar Polimic. He is wishing a meeting with the fleet commander.”
“Do you have the channel?”
“He requests it in person, my Lord. He is presently in a spaceship nearing the fleet.”
There was silence on the comm for a moment before Wydor spoke again. “Have precautions been taken?”
“If he accepts them, I will have a Juirean shuttle bring him to the UN-567.”
“When is this meeting to take place?”
The messenger approached Enulic again. “Please wait, my Lord. I have a reply.” The Overlord read over the message quickly. “He agrees to the shuttle, my Lord. He will be here in an hour.”
“Bring him to the Ornate Room. Oh, and Lord Enulic, have the passage corridors cleared of all personnel except for the security escorts. The destruction of Juir is still fresh on the minds of many aboard. It would not serve our purpose to have the Langril killed before the meeting.”
“Understood my Lord. This has been a strange and unexpected turn of events.”
“You speak the truth, Command-Overlord. I will prepare the chamber. Let us find out what this Kracori wants—and if I am not mistaken, this will be the first Kracori either of us will have met in the flesh. This meeting will be revealing on many levels.”
********
The Ornate Room aboard the massive Juirean flagship was just that: a room of opulence and excess designed to impress and overwhelm any visitor. The pride, strength and dominance of the Juirean culture was on full display within the chamber, having been designed to give any foreign power pause when contemplating a challenge to Juirean control.
For the Kracori, that opportunity to pause and reconsider a course of action had been forfeited when one of their senior commanders had dropped a huge rock on the planet Juir, causing both an environmental, as well as climatic upheaval that would last far beyond the time when the Juireans would reclaim their homeworld.
Even now, a force of over one thousand Juirean warships was entering the Juirean stellar system, determined to defeat any resistance the New Expansion threw against it. Even through the patchy comm link—as a result of interference by the Dysion Shield—Council Elder Wydor bin Sulic had received reports that the fleet was meeting no resistance, and in a few short hours, Juireans would once again walk upon the surface of their homeworld.
The thought brought such a surge of both excitement and relief that Wydor had trouble concentrating on the current state of affairs within the Dysion Void. Yet with the Kracori Langril Nomar Polimic just now arriving onboard the flagship, his mind returned to the problem at hand.
And that problem was that his fleet—the Blood Fleet—was about to be completely destroyed. That depressing thought was not mitigated by the fact that Wydor would soon be placed aboard a starship and escorted out of the Void. The rest of his fleet, along with the tens of thousands of his fellow Juireans, would not be so spared. In truth, there no guarantee that Wydor would himself survive. However, the Juireans had already lost one Elder to the Kracori—the first Elder to ever be killed by an enemy—that they were not about to lose another to the same evil race without an attempt to save his life.
Wydor knew all the arguments, pro and con, for the decision to sacrifice the fleet. In the end, it made sense, and would guarantee the annihilation of the Kracori race. The Juireans would not accomplish that feat by themselves, yet their actions would allow others to complete it for them. Still, it was a terrible price to pay, especially in light of the fact that this fleet was crewed exclusively by Juireans. In another time, where the majority of the fleet was comprised of aliens, Wydor would not have given the strategy a second thought. Yet this was different; only the repatriation of Juir was giving him any reason to celebrate.
The swish of a door opening jolted him out of his conflicted reverie. He remained seated at the overly large and ornately carved crystal desk, adorned with depictions of gruesome battle scenes from the early years of Juirean conquest of the galaxy. His guests would also be required to pass larger-than-life statues of noble warriors, along with tapestries lining the walls detailing even more victories from a glorious Juirean past. Eventually, they would be led to the desk and the waiting Elder of the Juirean Council Elite, at one time—and soon to be again—the supreme being of the entire galaxy.
This meeting between Juirean and Kracori would the first, and Wydor watched as the two huge, gray creatures approached the desk, escorted by Command-Overlord Enulic and four armed Guard Elites.
Wydor knew his enemy, and as a result was aware that these creatures were every bit a match for the physically-superior Human race. And yet this fact only added to his confusion as he watched the Kracori approach his desk. Compared to the eight-foot-tall Juireans, the slightly shorter Kracori appeared a more physical match to the Juireans rather than to the much smaller—and frankly—weaker-looking Humans. Yet differences in height did not translate into physical prowess or species toughness. Of the three races in comparison, the Juireans were the tallest and largest built, yet the weakest of the three. And the smallest, most-fragile looking Humans were, by a few degrees, the strongest, quickest and most-agile. Such were the verities of evolution.
Wydor had personal experience with the Humans. He had met and interacted with them on Juir, just as the Kracori were laying siege to the planet. At that time, the two races were allied against the Kracori; it was unfortunate that they were not at this time....
The younger of the two Kracori took an extra step forward to the desk and cast a questioning look at Lord Enulic. The Command-Overlord understood the Kracori’s confusion and offered a slight grin.
“Even though you have requested a meeting with the Fleet Commander—myself—I would like to present to you Elder of the Juirean Council Elite, Wydor bin Sulic.”
There was genuine surprise on the gray faces of both the Kracori. Wydor savored the moment by not rising from his seat or offering a greeting of his own.
“I was not aware the Council Elder was aboard the fleet,” said the Langril of the Kracori race. “I welcome the opportunity to negotiate with the leader of the Juirean people directly.”
“I was not aware this was a negotiation?” Wydor said in a firm voice. Wydor nodded to the Guard Elite, and they backed away, closer to the main door and out of earshot of the discussion to take place.
Lord Enulic—fully aware of the physical superiority of the Kracori—stepped up to the Langril. “This room is monitored, although the audio feed has been muted. The Guards will remain, yet they, too, will not be privy to the conversation. There are remotely-controlled flash weapons, set on enhanced level-one, which are presently locked and programmed to follow your every move. As a gesture of goodwill, it has been decided that at the conclusion of this meeting—if no hostile acts have been made by you and your second—you will be returned to your ship for safe passage back to Elision.”
“Your graciousness is unexpected, yet welcome, Lord Enulic.”
“Now what is it
you wish to speak of, Langril Nomar Polimic?” Wydor asked, while offering the Kracori neither refreshments nor seats before the desk. He would make them stand before him for the duration of the meeting.
“Elder Wydor,” Nomar began, “we are all intelligent beings in this room, so the proposal I bring to you is not designed to deceive or condescend in any regard. Our analysts have determined that based upon the strength of opposing fleets, the Juireans will suffer a catastrophic defeat in the coming engagement. Do your analysts so concur?”
Wydor looked to Enulic. “It has been determined that the Kracori will also suffer comparable damage,” Lord Enulic replied.
“Although to a slightly lesser degree.”
Wydor saw Enulic’s jaw tighten. “Yes, to a slightly lesser degree.”
“So in this engagement, the Kracori will emerge victorious.”
“In this engagement.”
Nomar turned his attention back to Wydor. “In light of the pending defeat of your fleet, Lord Wydor, I offer you this compromise. I will order a stand down of Kracori forces, as well as ordering the Nebula defensive units to withdraw. And then I will allow your entire fleet to leave the Dysion Void unmolested.”
“And why would you do that?” Wydor had to ask, even though he knew the reason.
“It is to preserve both our forces. This senseless loss of life, for simply a near-stalemate in outcome, goes against all logic. We do not wish to suffer the losses we will suffer, and I believe you do not wish it as well.”
“Langril Nomar, our forces entered the Dysion Void knowing full-well the consequences of our actions. We are prepared to make this sacrifice knowing that our efforts will lead to the ultimate destruction of the Kracori race.”
“By the Humans,” Nomar said quickly. “Yes, we have also projected forward from this encounter. And yet by retreating, you will allow the Kracori to be able to mount an effective defense against the Humans when they arrive.”
Wydor shook his head. “I am confused; you wish us to assist you in defeating the Humans? To assist the Kracori, who while aligned with the Klin, wreaked havoc on our homeworld, killed billions of our kind—including our breeding farms, along with most of our females? And you did all this with no provocation on the part of the Juireans, but simply because you wished to replace us as head of the Expansion? And you request this so that your race may survive. Is this my understanding?”