“Yes, My Imperial Lord. We thank you for your wisdom and your irreplaceable time. We have all benefitted from your very presence today,” responded Calran Klug most unconvincingly.
Two of his aides helped walk/drag the emperor from the council chamber. Exiting the door, he belched loudly and said, “I think that went …” Then he passed out for the third time that morning.
“Demons and blood ticks,” spat Calran Klug once the doors were shut, “we are in an impossible, completely untenable position here. How are we supposed to get this war machine out of the sewer with insufferable interference like that?”
“Mind your words, old friend,” said Darfos, a Whole Leader who’d known the new Prime for decades. “Closed doors are not enough to guarantee privacy, times as they are.” He made a show of glancing around the table.
“Do you mean to suggest one of us might stab another in the back, Darfos?”
“Or in the front if it allows him to survive this gauntlet we’re stuck in,” he replied.
“If we don’t watch each other’s backs, we’re all going to die soon and uncomfortably.” He scanned the room. “You all know this, right?”
No one bothered to pretend to disagree.
“Well, if you didn’t then, know it now. If any of us are to live, we must be united in every sense of the word.” Wisely, he did not follow his initial impulse and ask for a vote on the matter then and there. Damn it, he thought, why couldn’t he have been assigned to one of the ships that was destroyed?
“In any case,” said Darfos, “I believe it would be best if we proceeded with our usual business.”
“Nothing will ever be usual again. Our business is to live. If we piece together a fleet, and if that fleet wins victories, that’s all fine and well. But my vision of success is to do as little as possible, so we can be held accountable for as little as possible.”
“Surely you realize those words are treasonous,” spoke Nalvir, a dimwitted Wedge Commander of paw soldiers.
“Not if no one outside these walls hears them,” replied Calran Klug.
“If you are suggesting we conspire …”
“Shut up, Nalvir,” snapped Darfos. “Bravado and lofty words won’t keep you alive a second longer than the rest of us. It will come as no surprise to anyone present that no one present wanted to serve on the Secure Council. We were the idiots who did not take one step backward when the call came for volunteers to step forward. Get over yourself and focus on life, yours and your family’s.”
Those words did make even the boorish Nalvir take full notice.
“All right,” continued the Prime, “I could call for nominations and hold secret elections, but why the hell bother? Darfos, you’re the Vice Prime. Lopeth, you’re First Recorder. Japjad, you will serve as Counter. All in favor signify by not saying a thing or making any single sound whatsoever.”
Silence followed.
“The motion is carried unanimously. Our next task is to inventory the remaining craft and personnel still under our command.”
“But wait,” interrupted Sevrop, a young naval officer with a family not influential enough to spare him this job. “You know as well as the rest of us the armada sent out represented a minor fraction, perhaps five percent of our total assets. Why count a huge number not materially affected by the losses?”
“Thank you for volunteering to head that mission, Sevrop. Once we know precisely what forces we have at our disposal we can begin to contemplate how best to augment and deploy them.”
“But that’s a waste of …” Sevrop began to protest.
“Waste of nothing,” cut in Darfos. “Most clever of you to see that so clearly, young officer with a growing family. We need to know where we stand if we are to stride forward. I couldn’t agree with you more if my very life depended on it.”
“How long do you estimate your task will take to complete, Sevrop?” asked the Prime.
As Sevrop raised a finger to speak, Darfos answered for him. “At the very least, two months, sir. I will update you on that estimate at our next meeting in one month’s time.”
Sevrop sat back down.
“Then I move we adjourn and wish young Sevrop the best of luck in his all-important cataloguing. Son,” he said seriously, “the empire is depending on you.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
“So, I guess this is good-bye then,” remarked Mirri. She was in her old form. Slapgren was off hunting. She sat next to me and wrapped me up in a big hug. I had to admit, I preferred hugging the humanoid Mirri a whole lot more than the scaly-dragon Mirri was with Slapgren.
“Hey, kiddo,” I replied reaching over to tap her chin, “it’s never good-bye between you and me. It’s see you later, at most.”
She squeezed me even harder. It was nice.
“I’ll get through this somehow. Maybe. Possibly.” I was failing admirably to reassure either of us.
As we were parting, Sapale flew in the door so hard and it slammed against the wall. “Jon, we have to go. All hell’s breaking loose on Kalvarg.”
“What?” I said, rising from my seat.
“Do you remember the Dodrue, the fishy guys from Epsallor?”
“Of course.” I was halfway across the room to her.
“Well the big bastards have declared war on the Kaljaxian colonists. Jon, they killed Caryp.” To her credit, she didn’t even flinch when she said that.
“What are you talking about?” asked Mirri as she came to join us at the door.
“The other planet in this solar system,” said Sapale, “the one with the aquatic-based sentients.”
“Yes, you mentioned it,” Mirri replied.
“There are big fish called vidalt and bigger fish named wiqubs. We made a tacit agreement with the vidalt to stay. Apparently, when the wiqubs found out, they figured any non-enemy of theirs was an enemy to them. They’ve launched a big-air assault, and it looks like ground troops of some kind are heading toward the colony.” Back to me, she continued. “Jon, the Kaljaxians are outnumbered a thousand to one. They’ll be wiped out.”
“Not if you and I have anything to say about that,” I said, grabbing her elbow. “I always loved a good old fish fry. Come on.”
Mirri called out from the doorway. “But, Uncle Jon, you have …”
“Something important to do first. I can’t let the Kaljaxians die as a species. I’m just not worth it.”
I opened the cube, and we were gone.
“I think you are, UJ,” said Mirraya to herself as we vanished. She began to cry.
“Als put us over the main settlement. I want to see what’s going on before we land.”
We hovered silently over the main grouping of colonists. We stared down through the transparent floor. I gave a big sigh of relief. It wasn’t as bad as I expected. There were some craters, and a few buildings were on fire, but most of the structures and people were protected by the membrane generators I’d left with them. I hated to leave that technology anywhere the Adamant might get to it, but I felt this case was an exception. Thank goodness I was lenient enough. Otherwise, they’d all be dust.
“Set us down and open a wall.”
Sapale and I were armed to the teeth when we popped through the hatch. Luckily, we didn’t need to be, at least not from the get-go. Explosives were still landing on top of the membrane, but the ground assault was quite a way off. As one might expect, it was hard to transport an effective fighting force of oversized fish across vast distances of dry land. My impression was that the Dodrue were about the size of orcas. They were days away.
Al, I said in my head, be ready to move a membrane around to cover any stray incoming.
Or if they realize they can fire under the membrane from the side. That was Sapale. It was weird to have a mental party-line call going with the Als. Never had one before.
We’re on it, was his brief response.
“Over there, that’s where Caryp lived,” said Sapale, heading off at a trot.
I followed until we
arrived. The door was open. Sapale recognized the male sitting at the kitchen table.
“Karfnor,” she said flying to his side. “What happened?”
“Oh, Sapale, it was awful, truly awful.” He was having trouble speaking. “We were right outside. We were having a meaningless conversation. I said the holiday of Zart was due in three weeks. Caryp said no it wasn’t, it was in three weeks and a day. With the move here, some matters of time are unclear, you see.”
“I know, old friend. The days here are a different length from home. It’s all right.” She patted his back. “Go on.”
“I told her I was right and could prove it. I came in here to retrieve a calendar. I was going to show her.” His voice jerked to a stop with grief. “As I stepped out the door, a bomb landed right where she stood. When … when the dust cleared, there was nothing. She was gone.”
“I saw the crater outside, Karfnor. It was a large explosive. You were lucky to survive,” soothed Sapale.
“I only wish I hadn’t. Why would anyone want to kill a sweet old woman like Caryp? She would never hurt a soul.” He began to cry inconsolably, the poor guy.
Sapale hugged him in close. “There there. It’ll be fine. She never felt any pain, and now she’s gone to argue some matter of scripture with Davdiad himself.”
That brought a brief laugh from him. They both knew that was almost certainly the case.
“Where’s Galtria?” she asked him.
“She’s gone to check on our children and grandchildren. She said she’d be back soon.”
“I’m here, brood-mate.” A woman stepped slowly into the kitchen.
“Are you all right?” Sapale asked her.
She shrugged with resignation. “Who can be all right at a time such as this?”
“Stay strong,” Sapale told her. “We’ll get through this.”
“If you say so.”
“Who’s in charge of the defense?”
“The police officer, Daldedaw. She’s set up a command post by the stream.”
“I know the place. I’ll be there if you need me.”
“Go with grace,” Galtria said as she sat next to her mate and put her arm around him.
“Come on. It’s not far,” Sapale said to me as she walked past.
We jogged the short distance to the post. The beehive of activity was easy to pick out.. A tent served as the command HQ. Inside I recognized Daldedaw as the female police officer I’d brought here early on to establish order. She clearly ran with that responsibility. She leaned over a makeshift map where her major assets were plastic toys or scraps of metal. She was pointing at a mountain range and handing out assignments. That she was in her element was clear.
She looked up as we approached. “Ah, thank the Powers you two are here.”
“What’s the status?” asked Sapale. We’d agreed she’d take the lead in the discussions. These were, after all, her people. She cared for them ferociously, so she was the logical choice between the two of us.
“So far we’ve sustained only minor damages. The membrane came on after the first rounds struck. Three people were killed, ten are in critical condition at the hospital. Most of them will live.”
“And the attack force? How far off is it?”
“We estimate it will arrive in a few days. They have to cross those mountains.” She pointed to a portion of the map. “Who knows how quickly they can traverse them?”
“What ground assets do we have?”
She shook her head. “Not nearly enough. If I had four times the troops we do and five times the tanks, maybe we’d stand a chance. As it is, we’ll only put a dent in them.”
“How about air power?’” I asked over Sapale’s shoulder.
“In very short supply. We have two ships with enough armament to be useful. We had three, but one idiot went and got himself shot down. He strafed too low, and they brought him down.” She shook her head angrily. “Damn, I needed that ship.”
“Okay, we’re in a spot. Don’t panic,” replied Sapale.
“Who’s panicking? I’m just pissed at the pilot and furious with these murderers.”
“Our ship has enough fire power to take out the entire ground force,” responded Sapale. “We’re all safe for now.”
“You’ve got to be delirious. One ship with sufficient weaponry to neutralize tens of thousands of mobile units?” Daldedaw looked at her like she was crazy.
“More than enough,” I interjected. “No worries.”
“The important issue is what to do after the main Dodrue force is eliminated,” mused Sapale.
“You think? Maybe we should ask that question after we win the battle, maybe even the war?”
“Of course, you’re right,” replied Sapale. I’m sure she felt there was no need to clash egos at that point.
“Shall we do this?” Sapale asked me.
“The sooner the better.” I winked. Hey, it was my thing.
“How many days do you expect to be away?” Daldedaw asked us.
That one I had to field. “Days? Silly girl. We’ll be back before lunch.”
“Come on, showboat,” chided my mate.
“Stingray, put us a thousand meters above the leading edge of the Dodrue army,” I called out even before the hatch was sealed.
Without hearing a response, I felt brief nausea and immediately found myself looking down though the floor at the wide expanse of our enemy. Seeing them in person added to the impact of knowing the numbers they’d fielded. Either they had nearly limitless forces, or they were extremely committed to wiping the colonists out of existence. Either way, I was impressed. I was also so glad I commanded a vortex. Any single conventional ship, even a big Adamant one, would have had a tough time defeating those sheer numbers. As much as I hated to admit it, this was going to be fun. These bastards killed a good friend of mine and threatened my mate’s species with extinction. Oh, they were so going to wish they hadn’t pissed me off, and they were going to feel that way very soon. The only downside was that they weren’t going to live long enough to feel that way very long. Oh well. C’est la guerre.
A thought hit me from out of the blue. I guess it was my lengthy experience with war, killing, and matters of mayhem. “Daldedaw,” I said into the radio, “if it’s safe, see if you can retrieve some unexploded ordinance, or at least large pieces of shrapnel.”
“Roger that. Not sure why you want it, but it should be easy enough. How much do you want?”
“All you can safely collect. If it is unexploded, store it a safe distance away.”
“Will do. How’s it look from where you are?”
I forwarded her a video.
“Man, they’re a lot of those slime balls.”
“Not for long,” I said wickedly. “Als, I want some sims. Given the speed they’re making and the distance of the leading forces to the rear of the force just now emerging from the sea, give me a set of firing patterns to maximize the possible kills. I assume sims in which I attack the rear columns first would be the most effective.”
“Why would you attack the rear first?” asked a puzzled Sapale.
“If I start devastating the forward members, the rear one’ll reverse back into the sea. If I start by cutting down the rear, anyone retreating will sooner or later end up being shot. Maybe they wouldn’t make it that far before I got around to them.”
“Trapped rats.”
“Precisely.”
“Remind me never to piss you off. You’re as cold as superfluid helium.”
“No, ma’am, I’m just a pilot trained by the USAF in how to kill things real good.”
“If we use mostly laser blasts with occasional rail balls and pinch in from their flanks, we statistically kill the most. We might actually kill all of those out of the water when we commence firing.”
“How long?”
“Two hours, maybe less, depending on their response.”
“How so?”
“If, for example, they disperse, it would take
more time. But if they just throw it in reverse, we’re looking at something in the two-hour range.”
“Excellent. Commence firing.”
With no measurable delay I heard the familiar cal-lunk of the rail cannons kicking to life. Laser blasts were basically inaudible.
After fifteen minutes, I called out, “Cease fire.”
The rail gun fell silent.
“Report.”
“Of the estimated six hundred thousand transports, roughly ten percent have been destroyed.”
“Do there appear to be survivors after the bombardments?”
“There’s no evidence anyone survives after being hit.”
“Excellent. Keep up the good work, and you’re in line for a promotion.”
“After two-billion years I might get my first promotion, and it’s simply for slaughtering defenseless aliens?”
“Life can seem unfair at times, my friend.”
“No. Life is unfair at times, many times.”
“True. That explains why it seems unfair.”
“Shall I continue our barrage, Pilot?”
“Yes, please.”
The weapons sparked back to life. An hour later, Stingray spoke. “Form, I’m nearing the last run with the laser. Shall I continue as ordered?”
“Sure. Why wouldn’t you?”
“Since the ground forces stopped moving an hour ago, I’ve been able to advance the kill rate. I didn’t want to end the attack sooner than you might want.”
There was a whole bunch of odd in that exchange. “Why would I care if you finished ahead of schedule?”
“Al is forever saying you’re fickler than a teenage girl on her menstrual cycle and more focused on how the public remembers you than Nixon and Trump combined. I’m not certain what either comparator actually means, but he’s passionate about it, so I pass it along.”
Hmm. “And the ground forces stopped? Why didn’t you inform me of that significant change?”
“It was not a change that threatened us or our allies in the colony. It seemed to represent no significant data.”
“Important point here, Stingray, so listen up. We are at war. We are engaged in an active battle of that war. Millions of somethings are frying at this very moment as a proximate cause of our actions. In war, all facts are critically important. During a battle, any significant change is a major change. I need to know about everything all the time. Is that clear?”
Dragon Fire (Galaxy On Fire Book 5) Page 14