ARMS For Eternity: (Book 8)

by Stephen Arseneault

  "So how many days were we under?" Tawn asked.

  "Just under twelve."

  "Twelve? What happened to eighteen?"

  "Twelve is correct, ma'am."

  Harris grinned. "Sorry. Looks like you're stuck with me for almost a week extra."

  "Hardly. We still arrive in twenty-six hours."

  "The pods were a good idea though. I'm already feeling better about having used those for the trip. Saved us twelve days of MREs. You know, we might consider the same for the Human fleet next time. Think of the food and maintenance savings when almost everyone is in stasis during the trip. Come out a few days early so everyone is back to normal before you engage with the enemy."

  "I have to wonder why the Burrell ships didn't have these pods on them. What you just said makes perfect sense. You extend your rations and save on ship maintenance during that time. Why isn't everyone doing this?"

  Harris shrugged. "Maybe they know something about stasis we don't?"

  "Or maybe they're just idiots."

  Over the twenty-odd hours of journey that remained, the logs were studied and systems were checked and rechecked. The last hop was taken as the Bangor entered the star system that held the Burrell outpost planet in orbit.

  After several hours of riding in free space, the ship slowed as signals began to show on the sensors.

  Tawn said, "I have minor ship traffic, and... looks like two dozen ships. Not the dozen we were expecting."

  "I'm taking us in closer. We need data from that planet."

  "Agreed. Wait... you seeing what I'm seeing?"

  "What?"

  "The ships. They're all lined up in a single row. We might be able to take them out with a single gamma missile."

  "Two dozen? Seems kind of iffy. The back half might not even get irradiated."

  "True. So we compensate and use two missiles. One attacking from each end of the formation."

  "That's both of what we have."

  "I know, but our fleet doesn't have any. If we take these out just before their arrival, maybe we save a lot of lives."

  Tawn turned back to look at the incoming data. "Whoa, those numbers look right?"

  "The number of people down on the surface?"

  "Yes. Three million. And they aren't the right size to be Burrell."

  Harris browsed through some of the data. "Hmm. Neither are the occupants of those ships. They're bigger. Closer to our size, but... quadrupeds."

  "Those aren't Frizoid either."

  "Could this be a trap?"

  — Chapter 12 —

  * * *

  The observations continued for most of an hour.

  Harris leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed. "Not the Burrell, and no sign of the Burrell. Maybe just an ally of the Burrell?"

  "Possibly. But I have to wonder why the Frizoid didn't tell us that? Our troops trained to fight Burrell."

  Farker spoke: "Sir, we have record of communications bouncing between those ships and the surface. Should we not attempt to break into those? Perhaps we get a better understanding of the situation from the information being passed."

  "Good idea. I'm assigning that to you and the bots. See if you can crack any encryption and tell us what they're saying."

  "Hmm." Harris huffed.

  "What was that for?" Tawn asked.

  "How many times have we been in this situation, and now the dog has to tell us to try to hack their comms?"

  "Spying wasn't our specialty, if you remember. We're fighters, not spooks. Give us a gun and point us in the direction of a target. That's what we do, not this."

  "This is what we do now. And it's what we've been doing for several years now. All I'm saying is we need to start making some strides when it comes to understanding our craft. Cracking those comms should have been one of our first thoughts."

  "We've been here all of ten minutes. Not like we're waiting until just before—"

  Hundreds of wormholes opened at the edge of free space. The Burrell warships coming through raced toward the small fleet. The occupying ships turned, firing their weapons as the attackers approached. The dark void of space was soon filled with bright flashes as explosions spread across the hulls of both fleets.

  "Look at that," said Tawn. "Their armor is holding up to those lasers."

  "And the Burrell ships are taking significant damage. We need to make contact with this species."

  "How?"

  Harris pointed. "Down there. On the surface."

  "And why would they talk with us?"

  "Enemy of my enemy."

  "They have no idea who we are."

  "Still, it's worth a try."

  The Bangor was moved to a position just outside geosynchronous orbit. A general comm channel was opened and a hail sent out. Most of a minute passed as the war in the heavens continued.

  An image of a quadruped species with a flat head and long ears filled the display. It's reddish-brown, leathery skin lay in folds, off the sides of it head, yielding the appearance of a rubbery substance that had been poured out and allowed to harden. "Cease and desist this attack immediately. You are in violation of Crissen space and in direct violation of the truce of Sha'gra."

  "We aren't Burrell. And we aren't associated with this fight. We are Humans and we came here of our own accord, seeking peaceful relations."

  "You arrived with a fleet of warships and immediately attacked our defenses."

  "As I said, we aren't the Burrell. Perhaps we can be of assistance."

  The image on the display returned an angered expression. "You arrive at the same time as an enemy fleet and you use technology to hide your whereabouts. Those are not the intents of someone seeking peaceful relations."

  "We are Humans. The Burrell are our enemies as well. They attacked and captured our homeworld before we threw off their shackles. Their fleet was defeated. Now we also fight the Frizoid."

  "Humans. We have no record of any Humans."

  Harris enabled the camera view. "Just so you know we aren't Burrell. Are you familiar with the Frizoid?"

  "We are. Another foul species. Our war with them has been raging for almost fifty cycles."

  Tawn grabbed his arm. "Wait, how are we getting a translation? We've never spoken to any Crissen."

  "Our translation is being converted to Burrell, as that was who we believed them to be. We're going out as Burrell, they're translating and then sending it back to us as Burrell."

  Harris said, "Your ships appear to be putting up a good defense and inflicting significant damage."

  "Our power supplies will soon be depleted. The Burrell know this and are willing to sacrifice the necessary number of ships to bring this about. It's a standard tactic when we fight."

  The first two of the two dozen Crissen ships exploded as their shield power depleted to the point of being overwhelmed."

  The Crissen commander on the display shook his head. "Won't be long before they begin their ground assault."

  "You have weapons down there that will prevent them from using their ships against your ground positions?"

  "We do. Highly effective, but a limited supply."

  "If they breach your defenses, will you surrender?"

  "In our war, neither side has taken prisoners for anything but interrogation. We therefore will fight to the end."

  "What if we could rescue a handful of your people?"

  "For what purpose?"

  "To establish an initial relationship. To establish a minimum level of trust. We would both surely find out the other’s intentions from there, but why begin with being at war if it's unnecessary? Do you have friendly relations with other species?"

  "Many. What of Humans?"

  "Uh. None. You are the fifth species we've encountered. The first four attacked us without provocation. The Denzee and the Hoya we defeated. The Burrell we beat once. The Frizoid we are trying to expel from our space."

  "The Frizoid attempted diplomatic relations. We saw no reason to trust their word. So t
hey attacked."

  "This planet, how long has it been in Crissen possession?"

  "We claimed it as our own more than eighty cycles ago. The Burrell attacked and wiped out our science teams that were studying its possible colonization. We fought back, driving them from our space. They signed a truce that has held until this. They had been inactive in this region since the truce was signed. A new aggression has begun."

  "Probably because of their fight with the Frizoid."

  "The Frizoid offered to purchase this system from us. Their offers were not worth evaluating. Their diplomats were easily angered, which is why our relations did not go past the few initial meetings. Several skirmishes followed that have led us to our current state."

  "Back to my offer of an escape, that offer is open. We would be willing to drop your people in a nearby system for pick-up if so desired."

  Six Crissen warships went silent and were quickly overwhelmed and destroyed.

  Harris said, "If those warships come to the atmosphere, I can't help you. I'm willing to risk a pick-up while they’re busy, but not once they hit your atmosphere."

  The commander stared with his four black eyes for several seconds. "I have a diplomat and his aide here. They are not military. We have a small supply station at twenty-seven light- years from here. Do you have faster-than-light travel?"

  "Wormholes, yes. Are you willing to trust them to our care?"

  "I will ask."

  The comm display went black.

  Tawn tilted her head. "What is it you're doing?"

  "I'm trying to make friends with the enemy of our enemy."

  "And what if they're worse?"

  "Then we add them to the list of combatants who want to own us. In the meantime, look at those ships out there. Two dozen are holding their own against several hundred Burrell ships. We've got nothing to compare. I want what they have so we can build it into our own."

  The Crissen commander returned. "I'm sending you coordinates for an extraction. Should you successfully deliver the diplomat and his aide to our remote storage site, she will consider it a first strong step toward establishing peaceful relations."

  "We'll be down there momentarily."

  The comm closed.

  Tawn grabbed Harris by the arm. "You sure we want to do this? We know nothing of these people. Could be they eat Human-like creatures as snacks."

  "Or it could be they offer us technology that allows us to defend and protect our own people. Fact is, they’re here and they’re willing to give this a go."

  "Four more of the Crissen ships were just destroyed."

  Harris nodded as he piloted the Bangor toward the surface. "Which makes this move all the more urgent. See if you can get the bots to arrange a space for them. It's kind of crowded back there."

  Tawn sighed as she stood. "Thought our mission here was to report back to the colonel?"

  "We will. And we have time. If this fight is ongoing, we don't want our people jumping into the middle of it."

  "Why not? Might be the perfect time for us to take this planet."

  Harris pulled back on the control stick as the Bangor neared the targeted location. Two Crissen diplomats, accompanied by four Crissen soldiers, moved to the opening hatch. Harris stood, looking down at the soldiers as they approached. The near soldier issued a request with a gurgled tone.

  Harris flipped the translator on his arm pad to Burrell and replied, "I'm Harris Gruberg. My partner is Tawn Freely. We're from the Human planet known as Domicile."

  The diplomat answered, "I request an inspection of your craft before we board."

  Harris stepped back. "Agreed. But only by one of you at a time. The rest stay out here."

  A Crissen officer stepped forward. "I will do the inspection."

  Harris gestured for him to enter. Several minutes later, the officer stepped back out onto the tarmac. "There is one other Human, two robots, and what can only be considered as two stasis pods. I would advise against this, sir. You could be a victim of capture and interrogation."

  "I will take my chances, Oovius. This meeting may be beneficial to our empire."

  The officer bowed and stepped back. The diplomat and his aide hopped aboard. The hatch closed and the Bangor burned bright yellow as it rocketed up through the atmosphere.

  Harris sat in the cabin with his new guests. "I'm Harris Gruberg. Heckuva way to meet, don't you think? When your planet is being invaded?"

  "Indeed. My name is Rithop. My assistant is Binfar. Within the day, the three million soldiers, support personnel, and their families will be dead. My rescue means a personal message may be delivered to the families. For that I thank you."

  Tawn turned back. "Within the day? What happens then?"

  "That is the anticipated length of time we have left before our forces fall. I must apologize in advance for some of the translations you must be receiving. Crissen to Burrell, and then Burrell to Human, most assuredly takes its toll on the translators."

  "Have the Burrell attacked you here before?"

  "Not since the truce was signed. There have been a number of skirmishes over the past months, but nothing as significant as this."

  "Can I have the coordinates to your other base?"

  "I would like to first have a discussion with you. The base is an important outpost for us in this region. By giving the location it would possibly compromise its security."

  "Understood. How about I take us to a safe distance first. We can continue to observe this fight. If time allows, I can take you back to the surface, up to the point when those Burrell ships reach the atmosphere."

  The diplomat’s four individually moving eyes scanned the cabin. "The writings on your forehead and arm. What is its significance?"

  "We were in our military. These were our unit designations during our early years. They soon figured out that as members of the unit died and no new members joined, marking us was a bad idea. Miss Freely's unit number is lower than mine because she came first."

  "I see. So you are military personnel?"

  "No. Were. We had two factions of Humans who were fighting each other for centuries. Several standard years ago, those factions agreed on a truce. With no fighting, we were suddenly out of jobs."

  "And what brings you and this ship to this space?"

  "Uh—"

  Tawn cut in. "We were scouting for the Burrell. We believed this was their space. We're just out here scouting so we can better plan our defenses."

  "This is Crissen space. The Burrell are close to three hundred light-years in that direction. This is the edge of Crissen space. Our closest outpost to the Frizoid is five hundred light-years in that direction. Approximately."

  Harris nodded. "That's the general direction we had for each, although the Burrell, when they were in control of our homeworld, they indicated this region as being their near systems. We came here expecting to find it occupied by Burrell."

  A dozen of the remaining Crissen ships disintegrated, leaving only four.

  Rithop sighed. "It would appear our time in this system is limited."

  "You don't have a backup fleet coming?"

  "Any assistance our people will provide is many weeks away. Our positions on the ground will not be able to hold out for that long."

  "Is there nothing you can do for them?"

  "They will throw up a ground defense for as long as our shield generators remain online."

  "Is that what's been protecting your ships?"

  "I cannot say."

  The weapons of the final four Crissen ships went silent and the ships began to take immediate, heavy, and critical damage. Explosions followed, and the bulk of the Burrell fleet headed toward the atmosphere.

  Ground weapons fired skyward, causing damage, as the invisible shield of energy below prevented the Burrell starship weapons from penetrating to the ground. Several dozen transports headed toward the horizon.

  Rithop said, "As expected. The ground force will attempt to locate the exact positions of
the shield generators. Fire will be concentrated on those points and they will eventually fail."

  "What if I could stop many if not most of those ground troops?"

  Tawn shook her head. "I don't think we should get directly involved. This isn't our fight."

  "It is if we plan on being friends or allies with the Crissen. We're already at war with the Burrell."

  "I just think it's a bad idea right now, that's all."

  Harris moved to his console, entering in the coordinates for the expected dropzone."

  "Those two missiles won't be enough to stop that crowd."

  "They will if I widen the beams. I can hit that landing zone with enough gamma to have them all dead in an hour or two."

  "We're talking a horrible death. Those troops are just following orders. You know how this game works."

  "I know if we don't take them out here we might be facing them later. And that's our own people we're putting at risk then."

  "Sounds like you've already made up your mind."

  "I have. We come first."

  Thirty-eight Burrell transports made their way to the surface. As Tawn, Harris, and their guests watched, half a million Burrell regulars lined up in a broad field.

  Harris took in a deep breath before pressing the launch button on his console. Two small vibrations moved through the Bangor as the missiles broke away. Seconds later the display revealed their trajectories and targets. At seventy kilometers’ altitude the two missiles detonated. A pair of circles on the display highlighted the expected regions of death.

  "What's done is done. Rithop, those troops will likely be dead within the hour."

  "By what mechanism?"

  "You tell me about your shields and I'll tell you about the weapons I just used."

  Rithop nodded. "Fair enough. I am not authorized to release that information, so it appears we will not be sharing our secrets."

  Tawn said, "Bioscan shows a quarter of the troops are already deceased."

  The diplomat leaned forward. "Your weapon appears to be highly effective."

  "The rest will be dead before they move toward your shield. That should buy you some time."

  "Perhaps half a day."

  "What?"

  "The shields will fail, Mr. Gruberg. They have a limited lifespan when under attack."