Hide the Lightning

by Kevin Steverson

  “Uncle Harmon, I have connected to the gate in that system and am observ…Squat!”

  “Bahroot! Language,” Jayneen scolded her son, an AI like herself. “What has your father told you?” She was referring to Chip, who had helped bring about Bahroot’s existence.

  “He said not to say stuff like that around you,” Bahroot answered honestly.

  “Oh he did, did he?” Jayneen asked. “He didn’t say to not speak that way at all? He only said not around me?”

  “Thanks a lot, dude,” Clip called out over the system. “One of these days, you and me got to have a long talk.”

  “What is it?” Harmon asked. “What do you see?”

  “Uncle Harmon,” Bahroot said, “I count sixty warships in the system. There’s a formation of six ships on gate watch, and several more task forces patrolling.”

  “What type?” Harmon asked, his mind already running battle scenarios.

  “Bleeve,” Bahroot answered. “They’re all Bleeve warships.”

  Clip whistled long and low. “If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, man, we got our work cut out for us.”

  “I don’t know if we need to get involved,” Harmon said. “I mean, yeah, we need to get involved, but I don’t know if we’d be successful. The Bleeve are no joke. We went into Barlat System with surprise. I doubt the Bleeve are unaware of the fact we’ve been there once already to put down the pirates. They probably have a plan to keep any other system from interfering, and not only us.”

  “I agree, Harmon,” Jayneen said through the speakers, since she was currently located in the defensive bridge deep in the ship. After a moment she continued, “The odds are high they have contingency plans. I can verify the Salvage System defense video has been viewed over nineteen hundred times through the Bleeve System’s connection to the Galaxy Internet via the gate. I could investigate further, but you can be sure, it was not all by their civilian population.”

  “Commodore, if I may,” interjected Urlak. “The modern missile the Bleeve deploy in their warships is very powerful. They’ve managed to build missiles smaller than most races use with the same shaped explosive power, if not more. This allows for a larger load of missiles to be stored. Their ships are quite capable.”

  “I believe you,” Harmon said. He knew the Kashkal officers studied battles, combat, and military equipment with a passion. If the youngest son of the leader of the Kashkal made a statement about a weapon’s capabilities, you could bet good credit on it. “Come to think of it, that old Bleeve missile carrier we fought had them. They packed quite a punch, and they had to have been older versions.

  “Shonflate, make your way into the system. I’ll meet you at the spaceport closest to the gate,” Harmon said. “The Cube where we met before is now deep in the system in the shipyards, so that’s out. It’ll give me time to consult with my associates and other leaders before I decide what we can do.”

  “Thank you, President Tomeral,” Shonflate said

  Harmon heard relief in his voice. Harmon figured it was because he hadn’t told the Nazrooth explorer no, and there was a chance Salvage System would once again come to the aid of the Nazrooth.

  “I will head in-system now,” continued Shonflate. “I see on my navigation panel I will arrive in seventy-eight hours.”

  After the call ended, Harmon looked over at Sergeant Major Jontilictick. “Big Jon, where are we with the Fleet’s Marines?”

  “Sir,” Big Jon said after a moment to gather his thoughts. “Salvage Fleet has four hundred and fifty marines. Ten percent may be on leave at any given time. Major Audell has created the unit you asked for out of the best of them. He can have one hundred and fifty marines in heavy battle armor ready to deploy to wherever you wish fairly quickly, depending on how far apart the task forces and ships are. We’ve been training hard to clear ships, space ports, and deploy to a planet’s surface. We’ve even trained on Evermore to simulate an unbreathable planet atmosphere.”

  “That wasn’t simulation,” Chief Warrant Officer Brickle volunteered from his station. “Training on Evermore is dangerous; if the helmet or battle armor malfunctions, it could be bad. You want to burn the inside of your nose…and then die?” He raised his long snout toward them. “Cause that’s how you burn the inside of your nose and die.”

  Big Jon and Harmon both laughed at the Caldivar. His race resemble three-eyed giant anteaters without fur. He was the bridge engineer, when his skills as a technician weren’t needed in the power plant by Zerith to assist Kyla and Vera.

  He was referring to the toxic atmosphere on the planet Evermore, the other inhabitable planet in the system, though it could only be inhabited by the Kashkal. No other form of oxygen-breathing life in the galaxy could survive it. The Kashkal had searched for thousands of years for a new home world until Harmon gifted the planet to them.

  “You two have exceeded my expectations, building the Away Company,” Harmon said to Big Jon. “A battle-ready unit can be assembled faster than I thought possible, while leaving enough Marines and repair crews on each ship. Some of the other ship crew members have been training on repairs to cover when the designated Marines leave their ships in the shuttles, too.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Big Jon said. “A platoon of Withaloo can be added, should the need arise, from their security teams in their task force, and they all have heavy battle armor. With the large platoon of Tralge stationed on Cube, we can put together a decent force to clear ships or a number of other things.” After a moment he remembered one more thing. “Within the Away Company there are thirty mech pilots in Fifth Platoon with the latest war machines, too.”

  “That takes care of the questions I had about that,” Harmon said. “If we take this on, the Ground Forces will have their work cut out for them. The regular forces are at about fifteen hundred in strength, and the Bolts have nearly four hundred members. They would be taking on more than four times their numbers, if what Shonflate is telling us is right. We may need to add the Away Company to their ranks, and if it gets bad enough and the fleet is not in danger of battle, we’ll bring the rest of the Marines down as a light infantry battalion, and add more Withaloo with them.”

  “They’ve fought at great odds before,” Big Jon remarked.

  “True,” Harmon agreed, “and we’ve added a standard mech company to the Ground Forces since Barlat, and we both know the Bolts’ training program is crazy tough. I’d dare to bet they’re as formidable as any special unit in this part of the galaxy. We may have a chance, but I want to meet with all the key leadership before I make that decision.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Nine

  Ground Forces Command Center

  Banktown, Planet Salvage

  “Alright,” Harmon said, standing at the front of the huge lecture hall, “let’s get started. Ensign Bahroot, tell us what you found out.”

  “Sure, Uncle Harmon,” the young AI said. “Wait. You called me Ensign! Yes! I’m a member of the fleet, and an officer. Does this mean I don’t work for a living? That’s what Gunny and Sergeant Major always say, though I think they’re teasing. What branch? Am I a pilot? I can fly anything. Well, almost anything; I can’t fly a mech. Pilots fly mechs. Well, some of them do. I think…”

  “Slow down, buddy,” Harmon said, laughing.

  Everyone in the room had a grin on their faces. Even Rick Kashka and his top officer’s small sharp teeth could be seen through the clear-steel of their helmets. Normal atmosphere was poisonous to them.

  There were many others there, as well. The Associates were present. All the ship commanders, their executive officers, senior technicians, and heads of security were seated. The Ground Forces and Bolts’ senior leadership were in attendance, with the commanders and senior noncommissioned officers of all units. Mike and Mike, along with the platoon leader of the Tralge, Trinary Wahkiloth in command of his platoon, and two other mixed units, designated as the shipyards’ security and remote defense platform operators, rounde
d out the military side of the house. Civilian leadership was well represented, with the planet administrators of Salvage and Evermore, several of both planets’ mayors, with both port masters and their key assistants filling a row of seats.

  “Yes, you’re a pilot,” Harmon said after the room calmed down, “but that’s not all you are. You’re an officer in the Intelligence Branch. There’ll be a promotion ceremony later.”

  “Sweet!” Bahroot said through the slate connected to his cube and power cell. “Do I get to be a tactical officer, or will I work in a defensive bridge? What ship will I be assigned to? Can I be on Hank or Stan’s ship? Captain Elscritch on the new ship? What about with Big Nick on Desert Shade?”

  “I second that, sir,” Lieutenant Nicholson called out. “I need all the help I can get…‘cause you’re killing me with the whole command of my own ship thing.”

  “Sorry, Lieutenant Commander. Not happening. You’ll be fine,” Harmon said.

  “Sir, I think…wait,” Big Nick stammered. “Did you call me a lieutenant commander? I need to sit down. I am sitting down. Squat! I need to stand. I can’t take it. This officer stuff will be the death of me yet. All this responsibility. Just give me my mech and my personal weapons, and point me in the direction of the enemy, sir. I’ll even tote the crew-served weapons.” He slowly sat. “Please?”

  The room erupted again. Gunny Harper elbowed Captain Marteen, who looked directly at Big Nick, pointed at him with a grin, and gave him a thumbs up. Big Nick showed Marteen and Gunny two of his own digits. One on each hand.

  “Actually, you will be assigned to Big Nick’s ship,” Clip said, “but you won’t be the Tac. His Tac is now his XO, so he’s getting a new one, but it won’t be you. You’ll continue to fly the shuttle Big Nick and his guys brought back from the boneyard on Tretra. It was repaired and restored by Desert Shade’s technicians, with a little help from Hank and Stan. The programming was all you, so it’s yours. It’s home bay will remain on Desert Shade, because that’s where the spare parts are. You know it’s capabilities, and we’ll leave it at that. Some things are need-to-know, and that’s information that doesn’t need to be discussed.”

  Planet Administrator Joslynn “JoJo” Whaley-Bentalt spoke up, “On a side note, if anyone in this hall is offended because you learn of something you don’t need to know about, you need to get over it. I don’t know what it is or what it can do, and I’m fine with that. Sometimes we just need to stay in our lanes.”

  “That’s my girl!” Twiggy said in his drawl. “Shoot, me neither, and I’m good with it. Secret stuff ain’t secret if the whole dang system knows about it.”

  On the front row near the end, four male Leethogs were giving each other high fours and hissing in the Leethog laughter, every tooth showing, obviously proud of themselves. Kyla stood with her hands on her hips, makeup fresh, her bright red lips pursed with a glare that would shake a Yalteen to his core. She was one Leethog not to be messed with. Hank, Stan, and their two buddies sat still quickly and stared straight ahead.

  “You may continue now, Ensign,” Kyla said, turning back toward Bahroot’s cube and slate.

  “Yes, Chief Warrant Officer,” Bahroot said quickly. Even he knew better than to trifle with her. He might now outrank her as an officer, but she was one of the Associates, and a princess too, though it was never brought up.

  Harmon winked at Evelyn as Bahroot started to give his brief. The lights dimmed, and images appeared on the screen in the front of the hall. It was time to get serious.

  “I’ve enhanced the video and images I recovered…from my source,” began the young Ensign. “As you can see, there are a total of sixty Bleeve ships. There are nine squadrons of six, two troop transport ships, and what appears to be four more in a command unit.” The images cycled through, showing the various ships and their locations in the system. “The command unit is comprised of a dreadnaught, a fighter carrier, and two escorts.

  “Notice one of the squadrons patrols the gate at all times,” he continued. “I’ve determined they use one of four different patrol patterns. We’ve intercepted their communications, and reports are sent on a regular schedule. As far as the Bleeve Fleet, it’s business as usual, and the crews are treating it as a boring training assignment.”

  “What do you have on the troops on the planet?” Harmon asked.

  “I’ve been concentrating on the ships, Uncle Harmon. Mom has been intercepting the communication between the troop transports, the dreadnought, and the army on the surface.”

  “There are ten thousand four hundred and twenty Bleeve on the surface of Nazrooth,” Jayneen said. A new screen appeared up front, with a map of a large continent on the planet. Five locations were marked, as well as three easily identifiable airfields.

  “There are four of the Bleeve units of approximately twenty-four hundred soldiers. We’ll call them brigades. One of the brigades has been split to occupy lesser populated areas. The remaining forces make up the air support units at the airfields. I’ll send a list of the typical equipment utilized by Bleeve Skitter Forces to Colonel Arthok and his staff. Given the number of troops our system could put on the ground once we make it to the planet, I can give you the percentages of defeating the Bleeve in battle. Would you like them?”

  “Frost, no,” Harmon said as the lights came up. “If we commit to this fight, we’re gonna win it. Period.”

  “Right on,” Clip said.

  “Harmon hass never cared about odds,” Zerith confirmed as he reached into a pouch and pulled out a strikingly orange-colored banana. “He thinkss nothing can go wrong, which I have found to never be the casse sincce we were younglings, but having ssaid that, he hass always defied them, whatever they are.”

  “Positive thinking, Uncle Zee,” Bahroot explained. “Always think positive.”

  “Exactly!” Harmon said, standing again. “Alright, those are the basics of what I…we are considering. What hasn’t been said is the reason we’re considering this course of action. The Bleeve have invaded a peaceful system and enslaved its residents. Everyone knows how I feel about that sort of thing. It’s no secret, and I think it’s mutual among everyone in this entire system.”

  “If not, they can go back to wherever the hell they came from,” Bradford interjected, pointing with his unlit cigar to emphasize his point. Two three-foot beetle-like Smilps, Tim, a shimmering green one, and Petey, an off-red shiny orange, were sharing a seat beside him. They both stood and shook a limb in the air in anger.

  Once again the room erupted. Even Kyla whistled in appreciation. It took a moment to die down.

  “And,” Harmon said with a serious look, pausing a moment, “it’s worse than that, which is enough all on its own. They’re eating the Nazrooth.” He paused again before continuing. “Not the adults. Not the children. No…they’re eating the babies.”

  There was dead silence in the hall, each occupant processing what they’d heard. A look of resolve came across the face of every being in the room. From Human to Leethog, Caldivar to Prithmar, Kashkal to Withaloo, and every other race present. Each had their own unique look, recognized by their friends, even if they were of the other races.

  If the two AIs present had faces, the same resolve could have been read on them as well. Bahroot stayed silent, the small lights on his cube the only indicator he was present. Clip felt the light buzz in his ear as his translator vibrated with Jayneen letting him know, in her own special way to the one organic life she cared the most for, how she felt.

  “You know what?” Harmon said softly, his voice carrying the length and width of the room. “I’m not going to ask for your thoughts before deciding if we want to get involved. I know your answer. You know mine. We’re doing this. Commander Jayneen will ensure everyone has the information pertinent to their individual missions. I’ll make a few calls and meet with senior leaders, and we’ll plan this. We head for the gate in two weeks. We can’t save the whole galaxy, but we can save a system. Dismissed.”

 
; * * * * *

  Chapter Ten

  Royal Palace

  Planet Bleeve

  “My Queen.” Zikorah had his head almost to the floor as he spoke.

  Queen Shamilorah squinted all her eyes at her intelligence advisor in agitation. When he dipped lower than was expected, it usually meant he had information that would not be pleasing. “Speak, Zikorah,” she ordered.

  “Your Highness,” he began, “I have finished my investigative work and am now ready to provide you with the information you require.”

  “About Salvage System?” the huge queen asked, shifting on her dais. She’d watched the video after some of the first reports came back from her fleet and surface forces commanders. The reports had provided their plans and contingency plans. The fact that Salvage System had intervened in the Nazrooth System once before was a concern.

  “Yes, my Queen,” Zikorah said. “I had my specialist pull up everything there was to be found. This Harmon Tomeral is a formidable opponent. The tactics used by his ship, their fleet, and his allies are unorthodox at best, but they have been successful. I cannot say at this time if they will interfere with your plans. I can tell you he does not have as many ships or forces as you do. Should he decide to attempt to take the system you have gained, and does not take everything he has at his disposal, not only will he be defeated in the Nazrooth System, he leaves his own system at your mercy. To have a realistic chance at succeeding, Salvage System itself will be left unguarded, save for a small contingent of ships.”

  “Do you mean to tell me after I have committed to growing my empire, there is a chance it will be undone by this human?” she demanded, rising up on all eight legs.

  “No, my Queen,” he stammered. “I am suggesting you have another system you can take easily should he make the attempt.”