The Slaver Wars: Endgame

by Raymond L. Weil

  Hedon and the others stepped inside the large well-decorated room. Major Abercrombie and six handpicked marines entered also. Hedon noted the doors being shut behind them and that a number of armed Hocklyn Protectors stood around the room next to the walls. Two Hocklyns of slightly smaller stature stood up and looked questionably at the fleet officers. They were dressed in battle armor, which was obviously lighter and more of a gray in color. He was surprised to see a Hocklyn Commodore and several War Leaders there as well. He hadn’t thought any had survived.

  “I am High Councilor Ruthan and this is High Councilor Desmonde of the Hocklyn High Council,” Ruthan said, indicating Desmonde, who was standing beside him. “These others are our surviving fleet leaders.”

  Hedon stepped closer to the large wooden conference table and indicated those around him. “I am Fleet Admiral Streth and with me are Colonel Trist and Colonel Grissim who will act as my advisors. Also with me is Major Abercrombie, who is responsible for our marine contingent.”

  “Let us be seated and begin,” suggested Ruthan, gesturing toward the chairs that had been brought in for the Humans. He sat down and looked across the conference table at the Human officers. They seemed small and fragile when compared to a Hocklyn, but Ruthan knew looks could be deceiving.

  Hedon and the other fleet officers took their seats while Major Abercrombie and his squad of marines remained standing just behind the Fleet Admiral. They had their weapons cradled in their arms but ready to respond to any aggressive moves by any of the Hocklyn Protectors.

  “I’m here to demand the unconditional surrender of the Hocklyn Slave Empire,” Hedon began his eyes drilling into the two Hocklyn High Councilors. “Your fleet has been destroyed and most of your Empire is no longer under your control. Federation fleets are now in charge of all of your core systems. At a word from me, they will completely destroy the Hocklyn race if you fail to agree to the terms I am going to deliver. There will be no negotiating. You started this war, and we are ending it!”

  Ruthan let out a long and deep breath. He looked over at Desmonde, seeing the despair in his dark eyes as they both knew they had no choice. Most of their fleet was gone and the Humans had control. “What are your demands?”

  Hedon glanced at Colonel Grissim, who'd helped craft the document he had brought with him. The document was written in both standard Federation as well as in Hocklyn. Linguists had made certain that the meanings were clear and concise in the document so there would be no future misunderstandings.

  “Item one,” began Hedon in a firm voice. “All Hocklyn military ships of dreadnought or warcruiser class are to be turned over to the Federation for immediate destruction. The Hocklyn core worlds will not be allowed to have any warships more powerful than an escort cruiser.”

  “Our fleet!” stammered Desmonde his eyes growing wide. There were still hundreds of Hocklyn warships scattered about the Empire. He didn’t know how many dreadnoughts and warcruisers had survived, but there had to be a few.

  “Yes, your fleet,” Hedon reiterated his eyes looking piercingly at Desmonde. “Item two, all Hocklyn slave worlds are now free, and all Hocklyn vessels and Protectors will leave those worlds and return to the Hocklyn core worlds immediately.”

  “We depend on those worlds for food and other necessary materials,” interrupted Ruthan, feeling an icy chill at what the Human was saying.

  “You have twelve star systems to draw upon,” responded Hedon, shaking his head. “Use those for resources. We’ll also allow you to mine other uninhabited systems within twenty light years of Calzen for raw materials. Be aware that if any Hocklyn ship travels beyond that point, we will destroy it.”

  Ruthan and Desmonde slowly nodded their heads in agreement. They were both afraid many more civilians would die before the amount of resources still available to the core worlds matched the number of Hocklyns that could be kept alive.

  “All slaves currently on your core worlds will be repatriated back to their home worlds. If you need a labor force, your own people can furnish it. We've also destroyed all of the Hocklyn cargo ships in your core worlds to ensure that other races are more or less left alone. We are aware there are still some cargo ships and perhaps a few warships inside of your orbital habitats. These will be left intact for your use as long as they meet the requirements of surrender put forth in this document.” Hedon went on for several more minutes laying out the rest of the conditions the Federation and its allies were demanding.

  Ruthan listened, his blood turning colder, for he knew this was the end of the Hocklyn Slave Empire. When he heard the Human Admiral mention a Federation fleet base would be established in an uninhabited system close by to monitor the Hocklyn home words, he knew it was over. It would be difficult, but the core worlds would survive. There would be far fewer Hocklyns to support as starvation and fighting had already greatly reduced the population. More would die in the coming days. Many changes would have to be made if the Hocklyn race were to survive; Ruthan intended to be the one to make those changes. He would become the new High Leader of the Empire, an Empire consisting of only twelve drastically depopulated star systems. The days of glory and honor were at an end.

  Hedon finished informing the Hocklyn High Councilors of the demands of the Federation and its allies. Standing, he looked with a hard and sharp gaze at the two Hocklyn leaders. “Do you accept these conditions of surrender or do I order my fleets to attack?”

  Ruthan looked over at Desmonde, who drooped his shoulders and nodded. He stood and looked across the conference table at the Human admiral in front of him. “We accept,” he hissed, knowing there was no other choice. “You have won the war and we are now a conquered people. We recognize the end of our Empire.”

  Hedon nodded and with the help of Colonel Grissim, all necessary documents were signed. He paused as he looked slowly around the large room, realizing that the war with the Hocklyns was finally over. The signed surrender documents would be well received by the Federation Council.

  A disturbance at the twin doors drew his attention as another Hocklyn pushed his way in. With surprise, Hedon saw that this Hocklyn wore the rank of a Fleet Commodore. He also noticed the two High Councilors seemed to be surprised also. Hedon shifted uneasily on his feet; something wasn’t right here

  -

  Jaseth had escaped the Viden just moments before it was destroyed in its suicidal attempt to ram a Human warship. He'd taken his small shuttle and followed the Human fleet as it made its way toward High Councilor Ruthan’s habitat. Realizing where the Humans were heading and what their purpose might be from the communications he'd intercepted, he'd managed to reach the habitat and land in one of the smaller flight bays almost unnoticed. The Hocklyn Protectors, who'd met his shuttle, had been ordered to ignore him and not to report his presence. Obeying a Fleet Commodore was prudent as he was the highest-ranking military leader in the Empire and they were honor bound to do as he ordered.

  Jaseth had made his way close to High Councilor Ruthan’s conference room and then waited for the meeting to start. He'd made sure he was unarmed with nothing more than his knife, which he was certain the Hocklyn Protectors on guard duty would ignore. After giving the meeting time to progress, he stepped out into the corridor and made his way to the heavily guarded entrance to the conference room. Upon seeing his rank, the Hocklyn Protectors on duty allowed him to pass. The Human marines assumed he was part of the group of Hocklyns, which was supposed to be in the meeting.

  Pushing the doors open wide, Jaseth stepped into the room. It had been all he could do to control his anger as he walked past the Human marines. His burning rage had grown with each step. “We will not surrender!” he roared in anger as his eyes took in the Humans and the Hocklyns in the room. “I am the Fleet Commodore and the ships of the Empire will never surrender to these Human vermin!”

  “It’s already done,” High Councilor Ruthan said, looking at Jaseth sharply. He wondered how the Fleet Commodore had managed to get on board the habitat witho
ut anyone knowing. He was even more surprised that Jaseth was still alive as his fleet had been totally annihilated.

  Jaseth stepped closer to Ruthan and the Human officers. His hand moved close to the knife at his waist. “I don’t recognize your authority to surrender to the Humans; only the High Leader can do that and I don’t see him here!”

  Hedon looked from Ruthan to the enraged Fleet Commodore, not certain what was going on. He heard Major Abercrombie flip the safety off his assault rifle. Looking behind him, he shook his head at the major indicating for him not to interfere. He didn’t want to do anything to endanger the surrender agreement that had just been signed. This was an internal Hocklyn matter they needed to resolve themselves.

  Jaseth was now within just a few feet of the three Human officers who were now all standing. He'd already figured out which one was their leader from the rank insignia on his shoulders. With a sudden movement of his right hand, he drew his blade and lunged at the Human admiral in front of him, his blood running hot with rage and seeking revenge for what the Humans had caused him and his family to endure. With this one blow, he would restore his family’s honor!

  Colonel Trist saw the blade in the Hocklyn Fleet Commodore’s hand and threw himself in front of Hedon. He felt a sudden sharp pain and looking down saw the Hocklyn’s knife embedded in his chest. With a cry of pain, Trist slid to the floor.

  Jaseth pulled his knife back, seeing the red Human blood dripping from the blade. At last, his knife knew the feel of drawing blood from his hated enemy. Glancing at the stunned Human admiral in front of him, Jaseth prepared to attack again when he felt a sharp pain stabbing into his chest. Looking down, he saw a Hocklyn knife embedded to the hilt in the center of his chest armor. Looking across the conference table, he saw High Councilor Ruthan standing there, his blade missing from its scabbard. “But you’re a Hocklyn,” Jaseth stammered as he felt his life slipping away.

  Ruthan gazed coldly at Jaseth as he fell to the floor. “In my youth I fought many honor duels,” he said with ice in his voice. “You have acted without honor, and I did what I had to do to preserve what is left of our people.”

  Jaseth felt the cold darkness of death coming to claim him. The room swam about him, and then his eyes closed as his troubled life came to an end.

  Hedon and Colonel Grissim both leaped to Colonel Trist’s side. Hedon bent down next to the dying colonel, knowing he was helpless to do anything. If they were still on the StarStrike they might be able to save the colonel’s life, but the ship was over thirty long minutes away.

  “I guess I won’t be opening that resort on Aquaria,” Trist said in a weak voice forcing a smile.

  “Save your strength, Aldon,” Hedon said, feeling a giant fist squeezing his heart. Why did all the people close to him keep on dying?

  “I did get to see the war end,” Trist said as he coughed and dark blood appeared on his lips. “Finish what we started, Hedon.” Trist took a long deep breath and then was still.

  “Fleet Commodore Jaseth acted without honor,” High Councilor Ruthan said as he stepped around the table and bending down, withdrew his blade from Jaseth’s still body and put it back into the sheath at his waist. “Your officer acted with honor in giving his life to save yours.”

  Hedon nodded, drawing in a sharp breath and standing up. “The war is over; this incident will not change anything.”

  Moments later, they left the conference room with several marines carrying Colonel Trist’s body. Hedon carried the documents of surrender, still feeling numb. He knew that in his dying words that Colonel Trist wanted Hedon to be successful in the attack upon the AIs. While the Hocklyn Slave Empire was no more, the more dangerous AIs awaited him at the center of the galaxy. Colonel Trist and his advice would be sorely missed in that epic battle.

  -

  Amanda sat down in her command chair in shock. She'd just received word about Colonel Trist’s death; it had been completely unexpected. She had known the colonel from the very beginning, back when she was the Executive Officer on the original StarStrike. It was hard for her to imagine that the competent and ever vigilant officer was gone. This war had taken so many. It had taken her a very long time just to recover from the loss of her old flagship in the battle at New Tellus; it just seemed as if the list of lost friends and acquaintances continued to grow with every passing day.

  “I'm very sorry about Colonel Trist,” Commander Diaz spoke as he walked over to stand near Amanda. “I know you knew him very well. He was a good officer.”

  “One of the best,” Amanda responded with a long sigh. “At least he got to see the end of the war with the Hocklyns.” Amanda recalled the last conversation she'd with the colonel. He had been very adamant about seeing the war to its end. She knew he must have been deeply satisfied to see this day finally arrive.

  “Fleet Admiral Streth has given us permission to begin our jumps back to New Providence,” Angela spoke from Communications. “First Fleet will be departing last as it will be staying with Grayseth’s fleet and the mobile shipyard while the final repairs are done to a few more ships that have hyperdrive problems.”

  Angela would be glad to get back to New Providence. She intended to spend some quality time with Benjamin and make some future plans. If they were going to get married when this was over, she planned on having a huge wedding. It was something she had always dreamed of.

  Amanda took a deep breath and nodded. She looked at one of the tactical displays noting how much smaller Second Fleet was now. So many ships had been lost in the final battle with the Hocklyns and the AIs. “Colonel Leon, set the fleet up for its first jump. We’re returning home.”

  A few minutes later, the WarStorm entered the blue-white spatial vortex as it made its first hyperjump back toward New Providence. Amanda knew when they made it back they'd have four to six weeks to make repairs and reorganize the fleets before it would be necessary to start toward the galactic center and the waiting AIs. She just prayed they were not cutting it too close.

  Chapter Sixteen

  President Kincaid was standing in front of the Federation Council reporting on the latest developments in the war with the Hocklyns. The Federation fleets as well as their allies were on their way back to New Providence to prepare for the coming attack against the AIs. Fleet Admiral Karla Johnson had left the day before with the remaining Federation ships, which would take part in the battle against the AIs. Along with her fleet had gone five hundred and twenty-two of the new Alton battleships as well as additional fleets from the Kessels and the Darvonians.

  “Fleet Admiral Streth has succeeded in defeating the Hocklyn Slave Empire and has signed surrender documents with him aboard the StarStrike. He will be forwarding them on to us once he reaches New Providence.” Kincaid paused and looked over the assembled senators, expecting questions.

  “Why not bring them here personally?” asked Senator Fulbright, who'd only recently won reelection to his senate position. “The war is over and the AIs have withdrawn to the galactic center. We can go back to a peacetime economy.” Fulbright had been dead set against the spending done on the military in recent years, even though it had ensured that his colony world of Serenity was well protected.

  “Yes,” agreed Senator Davis from Bliss. “We have numerous civilian projects we need to spend our money on. It’s no longer necessary to maintain such a large military with the Hocklyn threat eliminated.”

  “Not just yet,” Senator Malle from Mars cautioned as he looked over his copy of the report from Fleet Admiral Streth. “According to this, our fleets suffered heavy losses when the AIs showed up in the Hocklyn system of Calzen. I think this demonstrates very plainly that the AIs are still a threat to the Federation.”

  “Bah!” proclaimed Fulbright, shaking his head in denial. “We still won the battle, and I don’t think we’ll be seeing any AI ships clear out here anytime soon. We also have the Alton battle stations and their particle beam satellites, which makes an AI attack upon our words highly doubtfu
l.”

  President Kincaid drew in a sharp breath, knowing there was only one way to convince the two senators from Epsilon Eridani of the ongoing danger. He'd been dreading this moment for several months. Only a few members of the Senate Council knew what the AIs were building at the galactic center and the terrible threat it represented.

  “I wish it were that simple,” he said, raising his hand to get everyone’s undivided attention. He let his eyes slide over the different senators as he prepared to reveal the truth. “Several months ago, the Altons discovered just what the AIs are doing at the galactic center. What they found was so shocking that it was classified as a need-to-know with only the highest members of our military given full knowledge of the discovery.”

  “What!” Fulbright spoke sarcastically his eyes narrowing, suspecting this was nothing more than another attempt by Kincaid to siphon more money out of the planetary coffers for the military. “Building more AI ships and robots?”

  “No,” Kincaid replied with ice in his voice as he stared directly at the rebellious senator. “They’re building a device to end all organic life in or galaxy and it will be ready in three more months.”

  Fulbright’s eyes bulged. “That’s ridiculous,” he scoffed, shaking his head in denial. “No such device is possible.”

  “I can assure you that it is,” Kincaid responded as he passed out Alton photos of what the AIs were building at the galactic center. “Our top scientists have confirmed what the Altons found. One of those constructions the AIs are building is capable of sending out a hyperwave that will eliminate all organic life in our galaxy. It will take close to fifty years for the wave to pass through the galaxy, but once initiated there will be no way to escape from it.”

  Fulbright turned pale in disbelief as he listened to Kincaid explain in more detail what the Altons had found and what the Federation and its allies were prepared to do about it. He felt his world crumbling around him. He looked down at the photos, which showed the horrific structures.