by Yakov Merkin
The Custorellatus king looked slightly disappointed; like Darkclaw’s own people, they had been created as warriors, and to not be able to do what they were best suited for could definitely be frustrating. But the fact was, Darkclaw intended for most of this war to be fought in space, where the Custoratis and Custorellatus would be far less useful.
“I understand, Heir of the Creators, but I do not withdraw the offer. When the time arises, call on us.”
“I do have a question that I have been meaning to ask,” Veilan said. “What do you intend to do with the relic? Have the Creators provided you with instructions?”
Darkclaw had neglected to prepare for this properly. He had yet to determine just how to enlighten these people on the true nature of the Reizan’Tvay, and the relationship, or lack thereof, that the Tyrannodons had with them. That truth could prove more damaging to them than the rapid exodus from their world and their introduction into a completely new, alien reality.
“I am dealing with it as instructed, but there is nothing meaningful to show for it yet,” he lied. He had not so much as touched the relic. The unimaginably powerful power source, far too advanced to even try and integrate with their technology at this time, was currently stowed in one of the larger compartments of his armor, ever since he had conducted a more thorough scan of it immediately upon returning from the hollow world. “Their plan for it is not one to be rapidly implemented. As soon as I have something to share, I will do so.” It was too potentially dangerous to do anything with it now, with too many other things to focus on.
Unbidden, his mind flashed back to the fight with the corrupted Scion in the palace, and the… thing that had escaped.
“Thank you for your time,” Darkclaw said before he could become distracted. “I would linger, but I have much work to do regarding the war, unfortunately.”
“We understand,” Veilan replied. “Do what you must to ensure all of our safety. As King Shahan said, we await only your call, should there be a service we can provide.”
Darkclaw nodded in understanding, bid them farewell, and returned to his shuttle, visions of that thing assailing him again. Even if there was some connection between the corrupted Scions, the Revittans, and the war, it seemed more and more likely that he had not one, but two enemies to deal with, each dangerous in entirely different ways, and apart from a few loyal friends, he was fighting this war with reluctant allies, and fighting on both fronts properly was going to be all the more difficult.
CHAPTER 7
Admiral Felivas Kharitzon took a sip of his kaf, then set the cup down in its holder on the side of his command chair as he brought up the latest intelligence reports sent by the Nihlurans in Revittan space on his personal pad. He wondered if he should feel bad for feeling surprised at just how much they were getting out, despite the numerous challenges they doubtless faced over there; he would not have contracted them for this task if he had not trusted them to carry it out to the best of their abilities. Honestly, he didn’t know what they would have been able to manage had they not learned early on that Nihlurans were common in the Revittan Empire as well; full-on military espionage missions would have been required, which were arguably more dangerous and definitely more expensive. There was still some of that, of course, but having operatives on the ground, as it were, whose history made them skilled at being sneaky, chatting up people, and generally getting what they wanted could approach this sort of mission in a uniquely effective manner, as they were proving.
As he perused the information, he realized with a shock that somehow, they, well, Ayil, at least—that had been made explicitly clear in their message—had managed to gain access to a military intelligence database! And that was only part of their most recent missive. Felivas had some idea of just how Ayil had managed it, and it was not something he should dwell on; he didn’t approve of such methods from a moral standpoint, of course, but Nihluran morals were different, and it did get results. Something else to thank the late Dalcon Oresh for. It was most definitely thanks to their time with him that they had been willing to undertake this mission—though not without payment, of course.
As he made his way further and further through the reports, images, and written notes, two main thoughts came to mind. First, that this needed to be sent off to Alliance command immediately, as there was simply too much for Felivas to analyze and disseminate on his own, and second, the question of how much longer this mission should go on? The Nihlurans, at his behest, were taking huge risks, risks that grew more severe as their time in enemy territory grew longer and longer. And they were, ultimately, his responsibility. When would be the time to pull them out?
Before he could arrange for the intelligence to be transmitted, a series of warning alarms began to blare. “Enemy fleet inbound,” aid the Swift Strike’s sensors operator. “They’ll be here in maybe five minutes.” Shouldn’t they have had more warning?
“Fleet size?”
“Difficult to say, Admiral. There’s some kind of interference that’s making it hard to determine an exact number. Best estimate is that they slightly outnumber us, but it could just as easily be us that slightly outnumbers them.”
“Acknowledged.” Felivas opened a channel to both the rest of the ship as well as the entire Alliance task force, comprised of the Felinaris First Fleet, minus the Felinar, the Talvostan Third Fleet, and the Legion Navy’s Second and Sixth Fleets, which made up the bulk of their force.
“This is Admiral Kharitzon,” he began. “All forces, to battle stations. We have uninvited company inbound, and I mean to give them a proper greeting. Array in Intercept Formation Three-One. Second and Sixth Fleets on the wings, Third Fleet at the center. We will move into flanking position and come down onto them as soon as they enter realspace.”
Once he received acknowledgements, Felivas opened a new channel to the Felinaris fleet. “Form up at point Gamma Three Mark Two-One, spear formation.”
Could this be the large offensive that Executor Keeneye had learned of, or a part of it? Or was it something entirely separate? “Open a secure channel,” he ordered, “and inform Alliance Command, our own high command, as well as High Executor Darkclaw that we are engaging the enemy in our space, around Staging Outpost Gasno Two.”
As his orders were carried out, and the Swift Strike moved into position with the rest of the fleet, other possibilities sped through his mind. Could they somehow have tracked the Nihlurans’ transmission here, and if so, were they now compromised? Or was this simply an attack on a military target; this outpost station was one of the more advanced and larger forward positions, serving as a listening post, guard position, and staging point.
Questions that could be answered once the battle was won.
“How long until the enemy arrives?”
“Under two minutes,”
Felivas nodded, then opened a fleetwide channel again. “The enemy is likely after the outpost. It is key that no matter what, we keep them out of effective weapons range, keep it out of the fight altogether. If the engagement goes poorly, we will then be able to regroup around it and take advantage of its defenses as well,” he said.
The countdown to the arrival of the Revittan fleet seemed to drag on interminably, tension and anticipation building as it always did just before a battle, adrenaline taking hold.
As the enemy fleet dropped out of hyperspace and accelerated at full sublight speed toward the station and the center of the Alliance formation, Felivas felt the familiar, welcome rush fully, as he ordered the Alliance forces to engage, his First Fleet swinging around behind the advancing Revittans before beginning their descent.
Immediately, however, as Felivas saw the enemy fleet on the display screen, he knew there was something different this time, compared to the last several skirmishes and even the battle over the hollow world. There were numerous ships of classes they had no knowledge of up to this point, many ships of two unique classes, if his initial assessment was accurate. One appeared to be roughly the size of yo
ur average destroyer, the other somewhat larger, equivalent to most cruisers. Perhaps information on them had been in the recent intelligence reports, or were accessible via the access codes they now had to the Revittan intelligence database, but that would not help quickly enough if these new ships proved troublesome.
Felivas was about to send a warning to the fleet when a tense-sounding Talvostan voice came over the channel.
“We’re getting torn apart! The enemy has some sort of new weapons, which drain our shields and leave us vulnerable to what appear to be kinetic energy weapons. We need reinforcements or we’ll be forced to disengage.” In the background, Felivas could hear the Talvostan ship shake violently, alarms blaring.
He had to act quickly. He couldn’t let the Talvostans get annihilated, but if he gave the order to disengage, the Revittans would have a direct path to the station, though one that took them through a gauntlet of fire. Of course, it was also possible that the enemy would be able to reach and destroy the station if they held position.
“Disengage,” he ordered after a brief moment of consideration. “Dive below the enemy fleet, and have all ships still in fighting shape immediately come about and attack them from below. They won’t pursue, their target is the station.”
“Acknowledged, Admiral,” came the reply, and Felivas saw the beleaguered Talvostans begin to move away from the torrent of Revittan fire.
“Send a message to the station,” Felivas ordered immediately afterward, “all personnel are to evacuate immediately; there’s a chance the enemy will be able to damage or destroy the station, and if at all possible, I don’t want to lose anyone else.”
“Acknowledged, Admiral,” said Lieutenant Everas, the Swift Strike’s communications officer.
“What are we going to do about those Revittan ships?” Asked the Swift Strike’s deputy officer, Commander Vanar Noran.
‘There’s no indication that they’re any tougher than the other ships we’ve faced. And with their focus solely on the station, we will have a perfect opportunity to take most of them out.”
“At the cost of the station?”
“If we can eliminate most of this strike force, and send the remnants fleeing, their destruction of the station will be an acceptable loss. The only other option would be letting the Talvostans, and possibly the Legion Navy, suffer extremely heavy losses just to delay the Revittans. The modular stations can be built quickly, and it will more or less be able to function as effectively as this one.”
The commander nodded as the Felinaris fleet closed to firing range. “Open fire!” Felivas ordered. “Focus on the new enemy ship classes; they’re the biggest threat to the station.”
Felivas rose from his command chair as fire streaked from the Felinaris ships into the flank of the Revittan force, which, combined with fire from the Legion Navy force, took out dozens of ships in moments, including many of the new ships.
But it was not enough. Even as more Revittan ships were cut down, more opened fire on the station, and similar to what the Talvostans had reported happening to their ships, its shields appeared to be rapidly drained, after which their kinetic energy weapons tore into its hull, which was less armored than the warships. In moments, explosions rocked the perforated structure, and it broke apart, the Revittan attack force breaking into several groups as they began to angle back toward their space.
Omnipresent willing, the crew got out in time, Felivas prayed, before ordering a full pursuit.
“Legion Navy, Talvostan forces, trap and eliminate any enemy ships you can. If they express a desire to surrender, accept it, but do not waste time calling on them to do so,” he sent, before ordering his own fleet, the fastest among the Alliance forces present, to pursue the fleeing ships at maximum speed.
“Keep the pressure on, don’t give them time to calculate hyperspace jumps,” he commanded, watching as more Revittan ships succumbed to concentrated fire as they slowly fell within weapons range.
However, many of them simply had too much of a head start, and after a minute or so vanished as they jumped out of the system. Felivas was tempted, for a moment, to follow them, but there was too much of a risk of falling into a trap, whether one already laid or one formed on the fly.
“The last of the enemy ships are either down or away,” the Swift Strike’s sensor operations officer, Lieutenant Azir, announced a few moments later.
Felivas nodded. “All hands stand down, and begin assessing damage and casualties.” He turned to Commander Noran, who had been in contact with several damaged ships as well as the station. “Any reports?”
“Our casualties are light, but no specific numbers yet. I am also informed that the station’s staff did, indeed, manage to get out before it was lost. They suffered a number of injuries, but none appear to be life-threatening.”
That was good news, at least. “Any reports from our allies?”
“Heavy Talvostan casualties, no word yet on damage reports from the Legion Navy.”
Felivas nodded. “Thank you. Carry on. Lieutenant Azir, prepare a damage report,” he said, then returned to his command chair. Did he declare this a victory, a defeat, or something else entirely? The station, a fairly important one, had been lost, but a significant enemy force had been routed despite the new ships and weapons used.
But they still lacked a great deal of crucial information, some of which might be contained in the files the Nihlurans had sent him, such as how large the Imperial fleet was. Was the force he had just defeated large enough that its loss would hamper the Empire’s ability to make additional strikes into Alliance space? Or had they been completely expendable?
Whatever the case, Felivas hoped that the Alliance reacted faster and more decisively than they had during the last war. Nayasar’s last messages seemed to indicate that she’d won the skeptics over to her offensive plan, but a course of action being approved was a far cry from anything actually getting carried out. With Nayasar there pushing, however, anything was possible, which was why he had encouraged her to go instead of sending him. He was good at negotiating, she was good as convincing—or browbeating.
Felivas pulled his pad out from the slot in his command chair, and quickly skimmed over the Swift Strike’s damage report—fortunately, there wasn’t much—and began to compose messages to Alliance command and his Nihluran agents. The former, explaining just what sort of intelligence he was sending, and the latter, a warning to be extra careful. Sooner or later, the Empire would figure out that information was leaking out, and crack down.
Felivas took a quick break for a moment, and stared outside at the wreckage of ships and what were likely bodies of the fallen, drifting out in space. So much, and this was not even a particularly large engagement. It was only going to get worse, far worse, but however difficult it got, Felivas took comfort in recognizing that this was his calling, and that he was capable of fulfilling his responsibilities to those under him. He would not fail them, not his fellow Felinaris, or his Nihluran friends.
CHAPTER 8
Director Corras Revval, Bureau Chief of the Imperial Revittan Security Service, felt uncharacteristically uneasy as he made his way through the familiar hallways of the Imperial Command Megacomplex, en route to a meeting of most of the Empire’s highest ranking officials, save perhaps the emperor himself. Director Revval had interacted with them all numerous times, so the prospect of another meeting did not concern him. What worried him was the simple fact that so many important people were being convened; that could only mean matters of grave importance needed to be discussed and dealt with immediately, and that assuredly meant that this had something to do with the war.
The mere thought of the war made Director Revval’s fine-tuned investigative instincts raise uncomfortable alarm bells. It was his job to know everything taking place within the Empire, as well as to be up to date on any and all major issues or potential issues facing it, and for the entirety of his more than three decades of service, he had done so without fail as he worked his wa
y up the ranks. Then the Empire had gone to war, and Director Revval had been caught completely off guard. There had been nothing, nothing at all, to indicate that such a major event was going to happen. That should have been impossible. The emperor did, of course, have the legal right to do anything he wished, such as deploying a fleet to an uninhabited world on the edge of Imperial space, and even declaring war. However, such powers were, by and large, not made use of, and the emperor was expected to at least keep his key officials informed.
There was none of that here, and it did not bode well. Worse, this was not the first time in the last couple of years that Director Revval had felt that the Empire was not the same one he had sworn to serve so many years ago.
He shook his head as he reached the elevator that would take him to the level of the meeting room. He couldn’t afford to let doubts creep in, not when there was so much at stake. The conflict had yet to escalate into a full-scale war yet, but it would, and so far things were not going well for the Empire. Never mind the fact that despite the best, and effective, efforts of the IRSS, the rebels still hung on, serving as a distraction the Empire could not now afford.
When the elevator arrived a few moments later, however, Director Revval resolved to set aside his concerns, at least for the time being. His life was service to the Empire, and he had a job to do. If there were found to be changes that should be made down the road, he was perhaps in the best position to push them forward, but that had to come after protecting it from a very real and very dangerous external enemy. The Empire would never be perfect, and to expect such was childish.
He stepped into the elevator, and a few seconds later, exited into the secure, internal core of the building on the lower level, where all meetings involving more than three of the top Imperial officials were held. Just in case some terrorist group sought to take advantage of such a gathering.
