The Khruellian Encounter

by C J Klinger

  Jon thought Talo might not answer him about the mysterious Ankh, but he opened up immediately and said, “We are always aware of their presence. We are not sure how the Masters accomplish this, but we can sense when they are near.”

  Jon found it slightly disconcerting that Talor had called the Ankh “The Masters.” He asked, “Are they close by now?”

  Again, Talo answered without hesitation, “Yes, in a relative sense. They have a keen interest in the upcoming conflict.”

  “Will they interfere?” Jon asked, intensely curious about Talor’s answer.

  Talor said, “I sense that they would if their interest were threatened, but I cannot tell you what those interests are or what circumstances would cause them to step into the battle.”

  Jon looked into the deep pools of his companion’s eyes and said, “Please let me know if you sense any change in their action.”

  “Of course, Jon, I am here to serve and protect you.” The android made a move to the door. “You had best get some sleep, Jon. Tomorrow will be a very long day.”

  Chapter 39

  In deep space

  Annika tossed and turned all during her sleep shift. She finally decided to give up on it and got out of her bunk. After a hot shower, she dressed in her combat uniform and went to the bridge. She grabbed a cup of coffee that looked like it had been used to clean a generator and then sat down in the command chair her XO, Lt. Bryan Jorgenson had relinquished as soon as she entered the command center. He eyed her cup of coffee and said, “That coffee is from the last shift ma’am. I’ll have cookie brew up a fresh batch.”

  Annika took a sip and made a face, but waved her hand in a negative motion. “It’s okay Bryan. After this coffee, everything else that happens today will be a piece of cake.”

  He laughed and said, “Maybe I should have some.”

  She studied his face and asked, “We ready?”

  He was candid, as she knew he would be. That had been one of the reasons she had picked him from the Enderson crew to be her XO. It helped that she had worked with him under Vice Admiral Estes who was known to be a tough taskmaster. If he got Estes’s approval, chances are he was a pretty good officer.

  “We’re as ready as we’ll ever be without actual combat experience,” he answered, aware that the other crew members in the situation room were listening to their conversation.

  “Then we are as prepared as anybody else in the fleet,” she said for the crew’s benefit.

  The XO checked the situation board and said, “Cookies says he ready for breakfast.”

  Annika nodded her head and said, “Sound revile, let’s get ‘em up.”

  Annika had decided to give her crew a pep talk while they were having breakfast together. She had shifted the watches around so that most of the crew got their sleep in at the same time. As a result, they were all eating together, which usually didn’t happen in space. She wanted them fed and rested for the day ahead. A grade one frigate had a crew of fifty and the dining hall, which also served as a game room was crowded. By now she knew all of them by name, face and service record. She had spent the better part of a week reading and studying each crew member’s service record as well as the details about their personal life, where they came from and what kind of families they had.

  The XO raised his voice and said, “Quiet gentlemen, the Captain has a few words to say.”

  Annika stood where everybody could see her as well as hear her. “Thank you, Bryan,” she said and looked out over the attentive faces before she began. “The name of our ship is the CSF Sparta. I know by now you know the history behind the name, but I want to share with you what happened after the battle of Thermopile, where our name-sakes gave their lives to defend their post. Immediately following that battle, which gave the other Greek states the time they needed to defeat the Persians, a period of history called ‘The Golden Age of Greece’ occurred. In that brief period, humans created the first democratic government, the same system of government we live under today. It would have happened eventually, but this was where it happened first and all due to the efforts of a few warriors on a lonely beach. Where those warriors thinking about democracy while they were fighting? Highly unlikely. They were actually part of a totalitarian state that didn’t believe in democracy, but these warriors did believe in training, and they were focused on doing the job they had trained for, to be the best fighting machine on the planet. Today we will be tested in battle. I expect each and every one of us to survive. On the other side of today, you will be different. You will be battle-tested veterans. People will look at you differently and talk to you differently. But, today you have to fight your fight. You can’t fight the admiral’s battle, and you can’t fight my battle, you can only focus on your battle. Your battle is to do the specific job you have trained for, to block out everybody else’s’ battle and focus on your battle. All of us on this ship are counting on that. I know you’ll do your job. Thank you.”

  The applause was long and heartfelt. On the way back to the bridge the XO offered, “Well done, Captain. Now we have a crew.”

  “Yes, we do,” Annika answered with pride. “Yes, we do.”

  In an hour general quarters sounded. Within sixty seconds all stations had posted a green status. The CSF Sparta were ready to march.

  Chapter 40

  Aboard the Super Dreadnaught CSF Andromeda

  Admiral Chen-Warren watched as her flagship captain issued the orders to jump. A day ago the armada had jumped ten thousand light years beyond the end of the Orion Spur. They were now positioned between the two great spiral arms of the Milky Way. Inward from them was the beginning spiral of the Sagittarius arm and the galactic center. The concentration of stars was so great it was hard to look at without filters. Outward from their position was the Perseus arm and beyond that the deep void of space between galaxies. The fleet had executed a right turn and had reassembled into a formation that was pointed at the dead center of the Khruellian Hegemony in the Perseus arm. Any traces of their passages through space from this point on would point in the direction of the Sagittarius arm, thousands of light years behind them toward the galactic center, and far away from their collective homeworlds in the Orion-Cygnus cluster.

  That was the strategic plan the Allied Defense Organization had come up with. Based on the information supplied by the Alphans, the general conclusion was it was not possible for the allied forces to win a battle with the Khruellian Hegemony in a head-to-head confrontation. Their only hope was to perform hit-and-run operations to make the Hegemony withdraw some of its expansion forces from the front lines to protect their home bases. It would also confuse them into believing the attacks were coming from the direction of the galactic center, an area the Khruellians had ignored in the past because they did not believe it supported any advanced civilizations.

  Group Captain McKinnah had carried out the first strike. Now Admiral Chen-Warren was about to launch the second, much bigger strike on three of the Khruellian worlds. The Khruellians had long ago made the decision to keep all their military installations on the planets inhabited by their own species and none on the occupied worlds, except for what was needed to ensure obedience to the Hegemony. This decision made it easier for the Allied Forces to find targets, but those targets, in turn, were formidable fortresses of weapons, ships, and personnel. When the Allied fleet split into three different forces, each would be facing an enemy many times bigger. Their only hope of success lay with surprise. As much as the CSF had celebrated McKinnah’s raid on the Khruellian homeworld, the downside was the enemy was now alerted and probably waiting for another such attack.

  “Into the valley of death,” thought the admiral recalling a poem from her academy days. She shrugged it off. This was the hand they had dealt for themselves. Now it was time to put down their wager.

  The first jump toward the targets would be a long-range one, six thousand light years. Here the armada would uncouple the tethers. They were now within one thousand light years
of their targets, well within reach of all the ships in the fleet, except for the Hylox ships. All their ships were assigned to Vice Admiral Estes’ squadron so they would have to make two jumps of five hundred light years each. This would make them vulnerable on the last stop before attacking the Khruellian target. If Lt. Commander McKinnah’s ruse had worked on the first raid, the hegemony could have picket lines out that far and intercept them when they weren’t prepared for an encounter. The admiral sighed in spite of her promise to herself not to do so. She reminded herself that Vice Admiral Estes was a seasoned officer and would surely be ready for that possibility.

  # # #

  Aboard the CSF Islandia II

  Jon watched the situation board change as the Eagle Squadron formed up for the last jump. Seventy CSF ships and twenty-five smaller Hylox ships were spread out along a twenty kilometers line. He noticed one of the Hylox ships had maneuvered to be relatively close to the Islandia. Instinct told him it was Adalan-Kyfor keeping her promise to fight by his side. Jon mentaled Talor for confirmation and the android confirmed his suspicions.

  Jon asked, “Can you contact her?”

  Talor said, “Yes if she does not move her ship away from her present position.”

  “Ask her to keep an eye on the CSF Sparta,” Jon asked knowing it was a selfish thing to ask.

  Talor was silent for a moment then said, “She will assign two of her best fighters to cover the CFS Sparta.”

  The Eagle Squadron’s target was the planet Khruelaka. Alphan intelligence showed it was the base for a huge fleet of the particular type of crafts the Khruellian used to subjugate new worlds, heavy battle-class behemoths stretching a thousand meters in length and smaller, more nimble frigate-sized ships similar in size to Islandia. Ten of the allied ships were scheduled to destroy the three orbiting stations that circled the planet. There was no evidence they were defensive platforms. The Alphans had described them as communications centers and transfer points for ships that could not enter the atmosphere. Destroying them would cripple the Khruellians’ ability to respond. The bulk of the ships were going to attack two major fields on opposite sides of the planet.

  The plan was simple; stay on target as long as they could, do as much damages as possible and leave on a signal from the Enderson, or if opposition forced them out sooner. Each wing within the squadron was assigned an area to prevent overlap and collisions in the heat of battle. Jon was the leader of Falcon Wing, which included five frigates, three destroyers, and eight Hylox fighters. Altogether he had three-hundred and twenty-five humans and eighty aliens souls under his command. He planned to take the frigates in at an altitude of five hundred meters in a chevron shaped formation and rake their area from one end to the other. The destroyers would follow at a slightly higher altitude and focus on any targets trying to take off. The Hylox ships assigned to his wing would patrol the entire area at an altitude of three thousand meters to provide defensive cover. When the first pass was completed, the Falcon Wing would turn and repeat the process. Jon estimated they would be able to get in three passes before the recall was signaled.

  Annika was in the Red Hawk Wing led by an old friend of Jon’s, Group Captain Rudolf Baron. Jon was pleased; Rudy was a capable officer and cool under difficult circumstances. He remembered Talor advice about concentrating on his own performance and stop worrying about Annika’s. With an effort, he put her out of his mind and focused on the task at hand.

  The final inbound jump was going to be risky. Since the CSF ships’ local drive worked off a planet’s gravity well, they would have to jump as close to the planet as possible to build up enough speed to be able to evade the enemy’s defense weapons and cover the target. He set the wing’s speed at Mach 2.5, which would have the added effect of washing the ground with a tremendous sonic boom that hopefully would disorient the defense crews.

  The situation board flashed green and Lt. Burns announced loudly, “Battle action in five, four, three, two, one, jump….”

  Chapter 41

  Khruelaka

  Commander-Defender Mebul-Brolo was reviewing his daily briefing summary when the attack alarm sounded. His first thought was he had not ordered an attack simulation today. His irritation was interrupted by a massive sonic boom that washed over the command center, followed by the distinctive sounds of his ships being destroyed. “In the name of the Legend,” he uttered as he grabbed his body armor and headed for the door. Outside, his aides were already on the move to the sheltered command center that had been hastily constructed after the raid on Khruel. Mebul-Brolo had spent enough time delivering destruction to resisting worlds to recognize his command was taking a beating.

  “This time, my mysterious enemy,” he thought. “You are not going to have it so easy.”

  Two steps into the command bunker he shouted, “Defense status?”

  One of his aids responded loudly enough for all to hear, “Fighters in the air preparing to attack right now.”

  “Ground defense?” the Commander-Defender asked next.

  “Seventy percent of all crews on station and firing. We should be at one hundred percent in five minutes,” the aide reported in the same level voice.

  Mebul was pleased there was no panic in his aide’s voice. The superiority of the Khruellian Space Force was a given. It had been unchallenged for so long, the history vids no longer mentioned the last time any species had attacked a Khruellian planet. In spite of the destruction appearing on the command center screens, no Khruellian inside doubted the Hegemony’s ultimate victory; not for a second.

  “One attacker destroyed,” another aide said.

  Mebul-Brolo was tempted to cheer, but the sounds of destruction could still be heard and seen on the screens.

  “Another attacker destroyed,” yelled the same aide.

  “That’s what I want to hear,” the commander-defender thought. In a few minutes, they would handle these aliens and get about the business of questioning the survivors to discover the location of their homeworld. Then these aliens would experience the wrath of the Khruellian Hegemony for daring to interfere with the Legend.

  # # #

  Aboard the Islandia II

  Jon gripped the arms of his command seat as the Islandia took a hit from an energy gun. In a voice a little louder than he intended, he said, “Damage report.”

  Adele Suniami, the damage control officer, yelled back just as loud, “No damage, Sir, glancing blow.”

  “From the ground or the air?” he asked in a normal voice.

  “Ground, Sir,” she answered normally.

  They had been hit and were still flying. Everybody’s morale picked up.

  Jon sensed the change and said, “Chief Garcia, mark that location of that gun and we’ll nail them on the return trip. He’s too damn accurate for my taste.”

  Nervous laughter ran around the table relieving the immediate tension. The Islandia passed over the end of the field after the first pass. As the ship made a tight turn to begin another run, Jon took a glance at the screen covering the whole operation. Everywhere he looked he saw burning ships. A fierce battle was being waged above them. Just as they started another run, Jon saw a Confederation frigate explode in a violent burst of flame and debris. His heart lurched, not knowing if it was the CSF Sparta. Islandia took another hit, this time more serious, which jerked his mind back to his own predicament.

  “Damage report,” he said trying to keep his voice calm.

  “We’ve been holed, Sir. Narrow beam weapon damaged isolated to the port side crew quarters. I’ve isolated that section,” Adele reported back, a little nervousness creeping into her voice.

  Jon was about to ask where the shot came from when they were hit again by a small, high-speed Khruellian interceptor that overshot the Islandia. Before his crew could traverse the forward guns from ground fire to shoot the interceptor, the blur of a Hylox fighter appeared in the screen hot on the tail of the Khruellian interceptor. Jon wondered if it was Adalan-Kyfor piloting the agile fight
er. He watched the two ships do a dance of death. No matter what moves the Khruellian ship made, the Hylox fighter was right on his ass. Jon got the impression the Hylox ship was playing with his target. Suddenly, the Khruellian ship exploded.

  Jon turned his attention back to the field blossoming in their field of vision as the Islandia swooped down to start another pass. The Islandia was still flying and functioning, so Jon didn’t bother to ask for a damage report. The gun that had hit them on the first run was targeted and destroyed. Ahead of them were dense columns of smoke rising in the air, testimony to the damage they had caused on the first run. They were just too many targets to pick out. He instructed Chief Garcia to lock the fore and aft PBW guns into a down position and on continuous fire. He would guide Islandia over the densest concentration of ships on the field. The PBW beams would severely damage or even cut any ships they crossed over in half until their capacitor ran out of charge.

  The CSF and Hylox ships had been over the field for two minutes when Khruellian ships started to rise from the field. Jon narrowly avoided a large, battleship-sized craft that lifted off unexpectedly in his line of attack. “A recall signal right now would be timely,” he thought. No sooner had he expressed the thought when the real signal was received. He immediately broadcast a “Break-off “signal to his squadron. The Islandia lifted sharply heading for the space boundary and safety. This was where the CSF ships would be most vulnerable. The further they got away from the planet, the weaker their gravity-well drive would become. Until they reached the safety of space where they could jump out of trouble, they would get slower and slower and become easy prey for pursuing Khruellian ships. A beam shook Islandia’s hull reminding him how vulnerable he was as he was headed toward the space boundary, ten seconds away. The rear screen displayed his rear PBW tracking and firing almost continually. He could also see two Hylox fighters weaving in and out of the pursuing ships, sometimes firing at point blank range. One of the little fighters took a direct hit and disintegrated into a ball of fire. Jon prayed the brave little fighter wasn’t Adalan-Kyfor.