by James Rosone
As the end of the dinner came near, they finished off their second glass of wine. McKee leaned in to ask a question she’d been burning to ask. “Admiral, how long have the Primords been a part of the Empire?”
A slight smile crept across his face. “Please, Fran, just call me Bvork,” he replied, almost in a comical manner. “You and I, we are friends now, and friends call each other by their given names.”
Fran’s cheeks flushed and she nodded.
“The Empire… or the GE as it’s called…we Primords, Fran, have been part of this alliance for two hundred and ninety-one years,” Bvork explained.
Fran wondered if the wine might be going to his head. No matter, she had questions, and he’d just opened Pandora’s box for her. She was going to get her answers, and the answers Republic intelligence wanted.
“Bvork, you’re telling me that the Primords have been at war with the Zodarks longer than you’ve been part of the Empire?”
Bvork nodded. “We have. We’ve been a spacefaring people for nearly five hundred years. We colonized our first planet a hundred years after we went to space and never looked back. As you probably know, our core system has six planets in it. We’ve colonized five of them. We also have colonies in fourteen other systems with a total of twenty-four colonies. Our population now exceeds one hundred and thirty-two billion people.
“You see, we first discovered the Zodarks three hundred and one years ago. At first, our relationship was peaceful. We had a small mining colony on a system near one of their systems. We interacted with them for a year, carrying out some trade and informational exchanges. Then they probed our territory. We believed they were just trying to make sure we weren’t a threat, so we kept our military presence in the nearby systems to a minimum. Two years after we first encountered them, they invaded.
“The invasion was lightning fast. They captured the system with our mining colony, and the very next month, the Zodarks launched a new invasion of our other systems. The next seven years were tough, long years. We rushed military forces and soldiers to our colonies on the frontier as the Zodarks pressed us from all sides, but as you know, they fight like savage beasts. We were losing millions of soldiers fighting them. By the time we were able to ramp up the production of warships, the Zodarks had captured seven of our star systems and twelve colonies. Our eighth year into the war, we were finally able to turn the tide. We halted their advance and then pushed them back. They still control two of our original star systems and three colonies, but I’m optimistic that we’ll get them back now that you humans have joined the alliance.”
All Fran could do was sit there and listen, dumbfounded. “Bvork, how is it possible that this conflict has lasted as long as it has?” she asked. “How come no side has been able to achieve a victory to end it or to obtain peace? It seems crazy to us humans that with all this advanced technology, billions of people and starships, defeating the Zodarks hasn’t been achievable. Why is it so hard to beat them?”
Bvork laughed. “Politics, Fran, politics. You also have to keep in mind that this war is being fought across not just systems and regions of space but entire galaxies. We are just one of the dozens of galaxies involved in this gigantic power grab. The Zodarks are not the only ones we fight. You already know about the Orbots, the half-machine, half-biological beasts. Well, there are other species of aliens we fight as well. This war, Captain, is bigger than you can imagine. We are but one very small part of this galactic war machine. The Altairians manage the overall grand strategy of this conflict. They manage the larger strategy and coordinate everything across the galaxies while we lesser species fight and implement these plans.”
Fran sighed. She thought about what he’d just told her. While it made sense, something just didn’t seem right. After all these years, a grand fleet or battle to win the war should have been organized, but for whatever reason, it hadn’t. She didn’t understand.
“Bvork, I’m just a ship captain. I go where I’m told, and I attack who I’m told to fight. Why can’t we organize a large fleet of warships and soldiers and go invade the Zodark home worlds? Why can’t we seek to end the war with the Zodarks and Orbots, or at least look to remove them as a threat to the rest of us?” she asked, almost pleading with him for understanding.
Bvork sat back in his chair as he silently sized her up. “Fran, this has been mentioned before. Many years ago, the Primords and another allied race, the Tulley, drew up some plans for an invasion of the Zodark core systems. Unfortunately, the Altairians learned about our plans, and they, along with another species you will soon meet called the Gallentines, summoned us to Altairius Prime. They confronted us about our plans and disallowed us from pursuing it. They told us that if we launched an invasion of the Zodark core worlds, it could provoke the Orbots, or worse, another elder species within the Dominion called the Collective. The Collective is a step above the Orbots in both technology and their physical beings. Unlike the Orbots, who are essentially cyborgs, the Collective are machines—”
“Whoa, Bvork. How is that possible?” McKee interjected. “What do you mean they’re machines? And how come we haven’t heard about them before?” She was blown away by what he’d just told her.
Bvork suddenly seemed hesitant, as if he’d just revealed too much. “Fran, you humans are just too new to the Galactic Empire,” he said. “Maybe the Altairians haven’t told you because they do not want to concern you with something that doesn’t affect you yet.”
Fran shook her head in frustration. “We have another naval officer, perhaps the most knowledgeable and bravest ship captain in our military, Rear Admiral Miles Hunt. He’s on Altairius Prime right now. I’m sure he’s probably being briefed on this. But this is important, Bvork. Why would the Gallentines and the Altairians be concerned about the Collective getting involved in preventing you from attacking a Zodark core world? Does the Collective run the Shadow Dominion? Are they the ones in charge of the enemy alliance?” Fran was practically peppering the poor man with questions. She needed answers; the humans needed answers.
Reaching for his glass of wine, Bvork finished it off. He was probably stalling as he tried to figure out how much he should tell her.
“Fran, there is a lot you do not know about this Galactic Empire. You will learn more about it in time. Right now, you need to focus on preparing your people to become a dominant military power in space. You need to grow an economy that can support this never-ending war, and you need to do your best to become as independent of the Altairians as possible. For the time being, you need to accept that you will need a lot of their help. Eventually, you will learn how to either take their technology and improve upon it or integrate captured Zodark or Orbot technology into your own. As you do this, you will be able to protect your people better, and you’ll be able to think and act more independently of the Empire.”
Fran knew confusion covered her face, but she didn’t care. This was incredible information. “Bvork, you have given me a lot to think about. I have so many more questions I’d like to ask. Right now, I need to think about what you have already shared with me.
“Mr. Hanseatic said our ships will complete their repairs in a few more days. Would you join me for another private dinner like this before we leave?”
Bvork nodded. “I can do that. But before I leave tonight, let me tell you more about our next campaign. This is primarily going to be fought by us Primords and you humans. The Altarians, Tully, and Gallentines will not be participating.
“As you know, the Zodarks still control two of our colonies. One of them is a planet called Rass. It was the first colony the Zodarks seized from us more than three hundred years ago. It’s a Zodark world at this point. Our colony had less than twenty thousand people on it when it was captured. Our latest intelligence indicates the Zodarks, and the Orbots have turned it into an industrial center and a major military outpost.
“This invasion will not be easy; they will fight hard for this planet. I’d like us to consider attacki
ng the planet like this…”
They spent the next hour going over details of the coming campaign. It was going to be a brutal fight, but one that needed to happen. It was the proverbial punch in the face Fran thought the enemy needed.
Chapter Ten
Train Like You Fight
RNS Tripoli
Planet Intus
Sergeant Paul “Pauli” Smith peeled his body armor off and collapsed on his bunk. His battalion had just completed their fourth weeklong training mission. They’d been conducting orbital assaults for the last three months to prepare for the next mission. The training was intense: as iron sharpens iron, they trained like they fought.
“Hey, Pauli, your appointment with the S1 was changed to 1700 hours,” Master Sergeant Dunham said as he stripped off his own body armor and collapsed on his bunk in exhaustion.
The sergeants of the platoon were spent. Pushing the new replacements and everyone else was taxing. It was tough work whipping the cherries into fighting shape. Sure, they’d learned a lot in basic training, but carrying out an orbital assault was a completely different beast to master.
“Thanks, Master Sergeant,” Pauli replied. “I appreciate your help in arranging the meeting.”
“Hey, anyone interested in going through Delta selection after they served six years in the infantry is my kind of crazy. I hope they take you, Pauli. You’re a hell of a soldier,” answered Dunham. He lay on the bunk and tried to calm his breathing a bit.
*******
Two hours later, Pauli approached the office with a placard on it that said “S1, Personnel.” He walked in and looked for the lieutenant he was supposed to meet with.
“Ah, there you are, Sergeant Smith,” said the lieutenant with a warm smile. “Please, take a seat; I’ve been expecting you.”
“Thank you for meeting with me, Lieutenant Tyrus,” said Pauli as he pulled a chair out and took a seat.
“Master Sergeant Dunham and Lieutenant Atkins both said we needed to see you. After reviewing your service record, I can see why. It’s quite impressive. A Bronze Star, Silver Star, Purple Heart, two Orbital Assault Medals, two combat tours on New Eden, and then the combat tour here on Intus. You’ve seen a lot in your short time in the military,” she said, flipping through pages on her tablet. She paused and put the device down. “I also noticed your current enlistment ends in seven months.”
Pauli nodded. “That’s what I want to talk with you about. I’d like to reenlist, but only if I can secure a slot to try out for Special Forces—I want to be a Delta.”
Her face scrunched up a bit. “You want to reenlist, but only if you can try out for Special Forces?” she repeated skeptically.
Pauli lifted his chin up. “I do. Is that a problem?”
Lieutenant Tyrus locked eyes with the sergeant major sitting another seat over. He shrugged and then went back to what he was working on.
She blew some air out of her lips. “Look, Sergeant, Special Forces has been ramping up its training program for the last three years,” she began. “A portion of those being drafted are going immediately to SF training. It’s not like it was before—you know, where you had to serve your first enlistment in the infantry before you tried out for SF. Let me check something.”
As the lieutenant typed away, Pauli felt his chances starting to diminish. For years, trying out for the Deltas had been his dream and motivation to excel.
“Ah, there it is. OK, Sergeant, here’s the deal. As you know, Special Forces training is three years long. You first have to make it through selection—that part is two weeks. Then you have to go through two weeks of medical evaluation to see if your body can support the physical augmentations they’re going to make to it. If you pass both of those selection activities, then you’re given a class number and start date for school.
“Once you start school, they give you two months of training before you begin the medical transition. I’m not going to lie to you, Sergeant. That transition is painful, and it’s long. It takes two months to recover from the surgery, and then they put you through three months of phase one training, teaching you and your mind how to use your new body. If you fail phase one, you’re immediately sent back to the infantry to serve out the remainder of your enlistment—”
Pauli interrupted her. “What’s the washout rate for phase one and two of selection?”
Lieutenant Tyrus opened her mouth to say something, then she stopped and glanced at her computer terminal again. “Um, phase one hovers around fifty-two percent. Phase two, medical evaluation, is twelve percent. Phase three, the physical training to teach you how to use your new bodies, is six percent. Basically, for every hundred people that start the process, only thirty-nine ultimately make it. Then they have two and a half years of specialized training before they receive orders to one of the SF groups. It’s a long process, Sergeant.”
“It sounds like you’re trying to talk me out of reenlisting,” Pauli said glumly.
The sergeant major who had been working the next desk over joined the conversation. “It’s not that we’re trying to talk you out of it, Sergeant. We just want you to make an informed decision.”
“OK, fair enough, Sergeant Major. What else am I missing?” asked Pauli.
“OK. First, because of the training length, and the time and money the Army is going to invest in you, they require a long enlistment term. They want to make sure they get their money’s worth out of you,” he explained.
Lieutenant Tyrus then added, “You should also know there is a stop-loss going on right now. When you first joined, everyone joined for a six-year enlistment and had to serve two years in the inactive ready reserve or the IRR. The Chancellor and the Minister of Defense activated the IRR and put a stop-loss in for all soldiers with regular enlistments. That means that while your term is technically up in seven months, you’d still have to serve two more years because you’re still in the IRR, and they’ve stop-lossed you.”
Pauli shook his head in annoyance. “So, Lieutenant, Sergeant Major—you’re basically saying that even if I don’t reenlist, I’ll still have to serve at least two more years in the infantry.”
They both nodded.
Pauli took a deep breath and let it out. Control the things you can control. Let go of the things you can’t.
“OK, let’s assume I still want to go into Special Forces,” he said. “If I do, what will the term of that enlistment have to be?”
The sergeant major’s demeanor softened a bit. “Well, Sergeant, Special Forces first enlistment is fourteen years. As you know, the first three years are spent on training. Once you complete training, they want at least ten solid years of service out of you. They figure you’ll also end up attending some additional training schools, which is why they tacked an extra year on to make it an even fourteen-year enlistment.
“However, if you do join, since this would be your second enlistment, you’d be eligible for the bonus. And it’s a doozy.”
Pauli leaned forward. “How much?”
“Half a million RDs,” said Lieutenant Tyrus. Pauli let out a soft whistle.
“You get a quarter of it if you complete the first three phases of selection,” she explained. “You get another quarter when you graduate SF school, another quarter when you reach the seven-year mark of your enlistment, and the final quarter at the ten-year mark.”
That’s a lot of Republic dollars, thought Pauli. It was certainly more than he’d ever seen. Then again, having spent nearly his entire time in the military on either New Eden or Intus, he’d already managed to save one hundred and thirty thousand RDs so far.
“OK, if I want to join and I’m willing to do the fourteen-year enlistment, when’s the soonest I could leave for training?” Pauli asked.
Lieutenant Tyrus searched her screen for the answer. “The next available selection slot we can get you is March 2116. The other slots are all taken up.”
Pauli slumped his shoulders. “So, how does this work, then? I reenlist for this new fo
urteen-year enlistment, but I can’t start training for another thirteen months?”
She nodded her head. “Basically, yes. Except that once you officially start training, they’ll add however long it was between your new enlistment and the time you started training. They’re pretty firm on getting fourteen years of use out of you. That’s also when your enlistment bonus clock will start.”
The sergeant major added, “I know this seems like a crappy option, Smith. But here’s the deal—whether you enlist to try out for Special Forces, you are still going to have to serve at least two additional years after your current enlistment ends. If I was in your shoes, I’d go SF. I don’t think you’ll regret it one bit, and it’ll be an incredible adventure. That or finish off your time and your IRR commitment and get out and never look back.”
Pauli thought for a moment. “OK, let’s do it,” he said confidently. “Sign me up for Special Forces. I’ve wanted to do this for years.”
*******
RNS Tripoli
1st OAB Briefing Room
Major Monsoor observed the officers and NCOs sitting in front of him. He saw the nervousness in their faces. He was nervous too. This was a big mission.
Captain Shinzo Akio asked, “Major, what if our fleet isn’t able to punch through the Zodark fleet? Will they call off the invasion if we aren’t able to secure the battlespace?”
Several of the officers nodded. A few transports carrying more than seven thousand soldiers had been lost during the invasion of Intus. When the Orbot battleship and a few Zodark cruisers had suddenly appeared in the middle of the fleet, there wasn’t much the transports could do to escape.
“My understanding is, like Intus, there will be two fleets,” Major Monsoor explained. “The first fleet will jump into the system and move to secure the stargate. Then they’ll engage the enemy fleet over the planet Rass. Once it’s been cleared, the second fleet consisting of the transports will jump through the stargate and then head to the planet.”
