Milor!

by Thomas DePrima

  "They'll give you an ample supply for the eight-month trip to Koppreco when you load the mamots aboard your ship."

  "Okay, Ker. I'll pick up the mamots, deliver them to Koppreco, and be back here in twenty-months to collect my fee."

  "Deal. Here's the pickup and delivery information," Blasperra said, extending a hand containing a piece of folded paper.

  "You expected me to say 'yes'?"

  "It seemed like a contract that you'd accept. No slaves and no drugs, but with a large fee. And with your contacts, I knew that if you accepted it, it would be filled, so I've held it for you for the past two weeks."

  Vyx just nodded.

  Blasperra stood up. "I'll see you in twenty-months."

  Vyx nodded again and Blasperra left.

  "Drink up," Vyx said to Byers quietly. "I want to send off this information about the Milori as quickly as possible."

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty

  ~ April 16th, 2277 ~

  A little over three weeks after repairs to the first group of ships were completed; engineers certified the Bellona, Song, and Plantaganet as being fully battle ready. Most of the engineers had already moved onto the next group of ships and were making good progress. Jenetta called a meeting of all captains and their first officers.

  "Good afternoon," she said as she and Lt. Commander Ashraf entered the conference room. "Please be seated."

  Jenetta moved to the head of the table and took her seat. "We've received a message from the agents that I sent to Scruscotto. They've been able to get a possible lead on one of our missing Milori fleets; and they claim that the source is usually very reliable. Assuming that the informant was telling the truth, and assuming that the Milori were headed towards the most likely target along the path indicated by the generalized information we secured, they would seem to have been headed for the Thurews system. If we further assume that they were on the same schedule for crossing the Frontier Zone border as the fleet that we met, that they stopped and headed this way immediately, and that their top speed is Light-450, we can expect to see them fifty-six days from now. If they maintain a speed of Light-375, which was their speed when observed, they'll arrive in roughly sixty-seven days. We can really use that extra time."

  "Why the Thurews system, Admiral," Captain Powers asked. "There's nothing there of any military value."

  "There's a freight hub there. They've been traveling for quite some time, so the Milori might simply want to restock their food stores before commencing any action. Or perhaps it's nothing more than a convenient navigation point. It's about the same distance inside the border as Stewart. They may have intended to bypass it without stopping if the fleet sent at us was successful. I know that I'm making a lot of assumptions, but it's my best guess for a workable scenario. The third fleet may be further away and that would mean that the fleet I'll call the second fleet, would have to wait for them. I'm sure that they'll want to combine forces before beginning an attack. It's also possible that both fleets are already much closer, but fifty-six days is the number that I've decided to go with for planning purposes.

  "The engineers are reasonably sure that they can have the Romanov, Geneva, Ottawa, Mentuhotep, St. Petersburg, and Beijing in battle ready condition by then. The Asuncion, Buenos Aires, and Cairo will have to be moved to a safer location. It's unfortunate that we don't have any space tugs with us, but we needed every square centimeter of space for ordnance. Our engineers have restored Sub-light power to the three ships, so they can begin their journey to Stewart under their own power while they wait for a space tug. The tugs from Stewart should arrive before the Milori fleets, so I'm confident that our damaged ships will be far from here by the time we re-engage.

  "I've moved our six spotter ships to cover the newly calculated approach direction of the Milori fleet. They'll be far enough out to give us an hour's warning time. All we can do now is keep working to repair the damage to our ships, and prepare a small trap. We can project an electronic screen thousands of kilometers, even though we only created a one kilometer by one kilometer by two-hundred kilometer cage at our last encounter. This time we'll use the maximum range because we can't predict their approach direction exactly. We'll reposition the unexploded mines from our original trap to create a flat-plane defensive minefield where we expect the Milori to most likely attempt a penetration, once they arrive. We'll hold position until they begin their attack run and then 'force' them through the minefield, like a magician 'forces' a volunteer to pull a certain card from a deck, by shifting ourselves to larboard or starboard. With any luck, they won't try to exit through the sides of this new trap. We don't have enough mines to even begin to cover the entire trap."

  "Why don't we just fall back to the border, Admiral?" Captain Payton of the Thor asked. "There's no need to engage them here."

  "Retreating won't help, Bill. We'd still have to confront this threat, and the border offers no better locations for a battle. By engaging them here, they'll hopefully have to hang around afterwards and lick their wounds, as we've been doing. That will give the ships on their way to Stewart more time to arrive and prepare another line of defense near the inner border. Our job now is to bloody the Milori as badly as we can."

  "In other words, we're expendable," Captain White of the Romanov said.

  "We must do everything possible to prevent the Milori from getting past us here. But there's always a chance that we'll survive. We've discovered some of the weaknesses of the Milori ships, such as, they only have two layers of hull plating, and the hull on the top of the ship near the stern is the weakest area on their battleships. Each of you has received a copy of the complete report prepared by the engineers that assessed the damage we caused to the Milori third fleet. Make sure that your gunners review it and learn it."

  "Admiral," Captain Yung said, "you should go with the three ships that you're sending away. The rest of the fleet will need you after this battle."

  "My place is here, Charles, where I can try to talk the Milori out of taking this action. I didn't have any luck with Lord High Space Marshall Gulqulk, but now they've seen we're not the pushovers they seemed to be expecting. Perhaps the commander of the approaching fleets will be more reasonable. But if he isn't, I'll face the same danger that I ask each of you to face."

  With the expected date of enemy arrival established, the days seem to move faster than ever. The three ships that couldn't be repaired in time to meet the Milori threat were stripped of their ordnance and sent off under sub-light power with a minimum crew complement. The job of consolidating the Milori hulls into one group and anchoring them to one another fell to the Marines. Things would be confusing enough once the battle began. They didn't need broken hulls floating into the paths of ships as they maneuvered for position.

  Jenetta continued to file her daily reports to Supreme Headquarters and maintained daily contact with Captain Donovan at Stewart. The engineers had plenty to do to keep them busy and the officers found plenty for everyone else to do. Gunners stayed busy studying the reports outlining the weaknesses of the Milori ships or using the simulators in mock combat conditions against Milori ship icons.

  Jenetta was studying the latest progress reports from the chief engineers when the computer announced that Lt. Commander Bushnell was requesting admittance. She said "Come" and the doors opened to reveal an officer standing just outside the room, looking rather uncomfortable.

  "Come in, Commander," Jenetta said.

  He walked in and came rigidly to attention. "Lt. Commander Gary Bushnell reporting to the Admiral as ordered."

  "Stand easy," Jenetta said, as she stood up and offered her hand. "It's good to see you again. How are you getting on?"

  He took her hand nervously and shook it gently. "I'm doing fine, Admiral. It's an honor to be serving in your command, ma'am."

  "Have a seat, Commander," she said, gesturing towards a chair in front of her desk and then sat down in her own chair.

  He sat down but didn't relax in
the chair. Sitting on the very edge of the seat, with his back ramrod straight, he said, "Thank you, ma'am."

  "It's been a long time since our days together at the Academy."

  "Yes, ma'am; a very long time."

  "I noticed from your record that you've only been aboard the Mentuhotep for the past three years?"

  "Yes, ma'am. I was posted there when I received my promotion."

  "I wasn't aware that you were in my command until my brother named you as his second officer."

  "Is that what the Admiral wished to see me about? I believe that I'm ready for the responsibility."

  "No, I merely wished to say hello to a former classmate and see how you were doing. Your record for the past ten years has been excellent."

  Bushnell seemed to relax a little then. "Thank you, ma'am. I've worked very hard to make up for the stupid mistakes that I made as a young Lieutenant. I regret the unfortunate incidents and swear that they will never happen again."

  "I have every confidence in you. I don't believe in holding minor lapses in judgment during the distant past against someone who's obviously trying hard to be a credit to himself and Space Command."

  "Thank you, Admiral. As I said, it's an honor to be serving in your command, a real honor. Your career has been a tremendous inspiration to me and was mainly responsible for resuscitating my own. I took a good, hard, look at myself and realized that I was my own worst enemy. I had grown frustrated that I wasn't advancing in rank according to my expectations and turned to alcohol to deaden the pain. After hearing what you did at Raider One, I gave up drinking completely and dedicated myself to proving to everyone, including myself, that I had changed. I have a large print of the Raider One base explosion hanging in my quarters. I keep it there to remind me what a tremendous difference one, dedicated, Space Command officer can make."

  "Even one voted 'to be an ensign for the longest time.'" Jenetta said, smiling.

  "It shows you how silly those titles are. Here you are an admiral, a two star admiral, while no one else from our class has even made captain yet. You're thirty or forty career years ahead of the rest of us. By the time that I make captain, if I do, you'll probably be the Admiral of the Fleet."

  "I hope not. I expect you to make captain long before I'd be ready to accept such a position. But it's all up to you. If you continue to apply yourself, the selection board will certainly overlook the very minor, off-duty mistakes of a young lieutenant."

  "Yes, ma'am," he said, smiling. "I certainly will."

  * * *

  Jenetta had dinner with the ship's captains most evenings, but at least twice a week she got together with Christa and Eliza. Billy usually joined them once a week and saw Jenetta at most other evening meals since he was captain of the Mentuhotep.

  At one of the dinners where it was just the girls, Jenetta asked, "How's your head, Eliza. Any lasting effects from that injury you received during the battle?"

  "No, the gash was closed by the next day and there wasn't any sign of the injury a few days later. Your DNA is wonderful, sis."

  Jenetta smiled. "It's come in handy a few times, right Christa?"

  "Absolutely, Jen. But I don't know if I'll feel that way forever."

  "Why not? Because of Adam?"

  Christa nodded. "I'm not sure how he feels about my never aging. I've tried to talk to him about it but he always changes the subject."

  "Perhaps he doesn't know how he feels," Eliza offered. "On the one hand it would be nice having a mate who is always young and beautiful, but on the other hand, it might be awkward to pair with someone and then continue to age while they retain their energy, vitality, and sex appeal."

  "I think you're right," Jenetta said. "I've worried about the same thing. Hugh looks old enough to be our father, because of his premature graying, although he certainly isn't that much older than me in actual years since my birth."

  "You haven't mentioned Hugh in a while," Christa said. "Have you heard from him?"

  "Yes, I've received a message at least once a week since he was awakened from stasis sleep. The company requires them to sleep half the trip to save on salaries, and since this trip is two years, he'll be going under for another six month cycle in a few months."

  "I can imagine his surprise," Eliza said, "when he learned of your second star. You were just a captain when he went to sleep."

  "And I hope to be just a captain again in a couple of years. If you calculate the time of my duty tour since Captain Gavin officially installed me as base commander, I've been on Stewart for three years and four months. That means just one year and eight months to go. Supreme HQ has to get my replacement started on his trip soon, so that he's here when my tour is up."

  "Only a year and a half left. I can't believe it," Christa said. "It seemed so long when you first took over as base commander."

  "Don't I know it? We could be out here for another five or six months; and by the time we get back, I'll be counting the time in months."

  "That would be nice," Eliza said, "but we're forgetting the Milori. They may render this entire conversation academic. Long term relationships and duty tours may not concern us after they get here."

  "I'm not going to live my life worrying about the possible calamities that might befall us," Christa said.

  "I admit that it has concerned me," Jenetta said. "I'm responsible for all our lives. Us, Billy, and the tens of thousands of others in this task force. But speaking selfishly for just a minute, I've always thought that there would be one of us three around to carry on my enhanced DNA. Now we're in very real danger of all being killed out here. I even considered sending one of you on the Asuncion so that you'd be safe, but I knew that you'd never go willingly."

  "Darn right," Eliza said. "We've sat in nice safe places while you've been roaming all over Galactic Alliance space fighting Raiders. We're Space Command officers also, and we deserve a chance to do our part."

  "Ditto," Christa said. "We'll take our chances the same as you. If these are to be our final hours, let's make them our finest hours."

  Looking to change the somber mood that had befallen the trio, Jenetta held up her coffee mug, in the manner that one of Alexandre Dumas' famous characters from 'The Three Musketeers' might once have held his sword. "One for all…"

  "And all for one," Eliza and Christa said simultaneously, clicking their coffee mugs against Jenetta's before the three women broke into a fit of giggling.

  * * *

  By the fifty-sixth day, the date that Jenetta established as the earliest that the Milori fleets might arrive, and the ninety-eighth day since the battle, all twelve ships of the small task force were certified battle ready. Not all of the repairs were pretty, and some areas of the ships were unusable for normal activity. But for warfare, they were almost as functional as they had been in the hours before the first battle. The engineers began to get some much needed rest while the rest of the crew began to grow edgy from waiting. The weapons simulators were being used around the clock, both to further hone skills, and as a way to work off anxiety. There hadn't been any more sightings of the Milori since the one report.

  Jenetta decided not to have the tugs from Stewart immediately begin towing the three ships back to the base, when they finally arrived. At just over fifty billion kilometers into their journey, the three ships had stopped in space and linked up when a problem developed with the Sub-light engines on the Buenos Aires. Unless the Milori came from the direction of Stewart, they wouldn't be spotted.

  The tugs, capable of Light-75, could make the trip from the task force to the damaged ships in thirty-seven minutes, so Jenetta decided to use the small craft for transporting engineers to the damaged ships each day. She hoped that the Milori would give them enough time to get one or more of the ships battle ready.

  Eight days later, one of the spotter ships sent an urgent message to the task force. The Milori fleets were passing its position. It gave the precise location and heading of the Milori. The task force swung into immediat
e action as general quarters alerts sounded throughout every ship.

  Having information about the Milori allowed the task force to move the minefield. They centered it directly between them and the approaching enemy force. An hour's lead-time was more than sufficient for the network of self-propelled mines to reposition themselves, once the coordinates were transmitted.

  Everything was in readiness when the Milori Fleet came into view on the sensor screens. Jenetta ordered the electronic barrier activated and the enemy fleet came to a stop just short of the minefield. The twelve ship task force was waiting just thirty-thousand kilometers beyond the minefield and energy grid.

  "Admiral," the com chief said, "the Milori are hailing you."

  "Me? Personally?"

  "Aye, Admiral."

  "Feed our bridge image and the viewscreen image to all ships. Okay, chief, put the Milori on the front viewscreen."

  A second later, the closeup image of a Milora filled the enormous screen. Each ship in the task force was receiving a split image, with Jenetta on the left and the Milori on the right.

  "I'm Admiral Jenetta Carver of the Galactic Alliance Space Command," Jenetta said to the hair-covered visage from which four large brown eyes protruded. "You're trespassing in Galactic Alliance space. I have to assume that your intentions are hostile, given the fact that you've arrived here in such numbers."

  The Milori chuckled, or at least made a sound that the translator software interpreted as a chuckle. The grim looking face never smiled. "I'm Supreme Lord Space Marshall Dwillaak. And you know very well why we're here. I recognize you from the news broadcasts that we've been intercepting. I demand your immediate and unconditional surrender."

  "How very interesting," Jenetta said, unperturbedly. "That's precisely what I demanded of your Lord High Space Marshall Gulqulk. Unfortunately, for your third fleet, he chose to fight. He assumed that simply because he had a seven to one superiority, that he'd destroy us easily. I hope that you're smarter, given that you're his superior and obviously much more intelligent. Perhaps you've noticed that your FTL engines have disengaged."