E.D.F chronicles - The Krenaran massacre.

by Ian. J. Smethurst

  Michael watched the fiery remains of the ship gradually die down. “That’s for the Ulysses, you murdering bastards.”

  “We should get back into plasma drive before any more Krenaran ships catch up with us,” Kerulithar suggested.

  Soon the swirling plasma wake opened up again, and the Liberty leapt into plasma drive once more, leaving the debris of the destroyed Krenaran ship floating in space.

  “How long is it before we reach Solarian space?” Vargev asked.

  “It is a four day journey at our current speed,” Kerulithar replied.

  “Let’s just pray to god, we don’t run into any more Krenarans on the way,” Michael said.

  The Liberty carried on its journey through the swirling tunnel of colour that was plasma drive.

  During this eerily quiet spell Michael realised he was extremely tired and very hungry after expending so much energy in that last battle.

  “Hey Kerulithar, do you know where there is any food onboard?”

  “There is a mess area on all Krenaran ships; however the food synthesisers only produce Krenaran food which may not be to your liking.”

  “Is it okay to leave the pilot’s chair while in plasma drive?”

  “Yes; we don’t have any course changes to make from here on in, it’s a straight journey.”

  Michael set the grips in place and climbed out of the pilots’ chair.

  Kerulithar arranged for a few crewmembers to keep watch on the command centre while they were away, just in case anything did happen; soon enough three other aliens arrived to replace them.

  Together Michael, Vargev and Kerulithar left the command centre and headed toward the elevator. Kerulithar spoke the Krenaran word for mess area “Beliarath”, and soon they were whisked on their way.

  When they arrived at the mess area they found a small rectangular room with a bare steel table in the centre, a couple of dead Krenarans were slumped face down upon it. There were several rather basic, black coloured chairs, arrayed rather haphazardly around this table, all in the typical rugged, yet spartan Krenaran style. In addition, a large and complex looking machine dominated one of the smaller walls.

  Vargev and Michael heaved the bodies over to a corner in the room, they were extremely heavy and it took the two of them to move just one, Kerulithar’s tall, but fragile frame simply lacked the physical strength to help much. Finally, the three of them made their way to the machine.

  “This is a food synthesiser,” Kerulithar said almost with a hint of condescension in his voice.

  “Yes I know that, what’s on the menu?” Michael retorted.

  “Well,” Kerulithar said furrowing his alien brow and looking up at the synthesiser. “There is Shash’lak brains, lung of Korvrat, Ralkos eggs, and Vormek stomach.”

  “I think I’ll pass,” Michael replied; suddenly feeling a bout of nausea coming on.

  “I’ll have the Ralkos eggs,” Vargev said. “They’re only eggs, how bad could they be?”

  “Ralkos eggs come from the ferocious Ralkos bird. They are native to several planets throughout Krenaran territory, and are considered quite a delicacy,” Kerulithar pointed out.

  “Toresh al Ralko,” The Solarian spoke into the food synthesiser. There was a muted mechanical whirring noise, and then a hatch opened. Two huge black eggs the size of watermelons, perched precariously on top of a steel bowl, was presented to Kerulithar.

  “Ralkos eggs,” Kerulithar announced as he handed the bowl to Vargev; who wished he hadn’t asked, he nevertheless dutifully took the bowl over to the table and sat down.

  Michael almost gagged when he looked at those horrific black eggs, but hunger drove him on. “I’ll have the lung of Korvrat?” He asked, “what do they have for drinks?”

  “Galgrosh blood, and Neidrat bile.”

  “Great,” Michael sighed nonchalantly. “Don’t they just have water?”

  “You forget how expensive water is,” Kerulithar replied. “However they do have reconstituted water.” He said as he studied the panel on the food synthesiser once more, “it is not as good quality as the real thing but it will not make you ill.”

  “What was the water reconstituted from?” Michael asked suspiciously; and then suddenly halted almost in mid sentence. “In fact; tell you what, I don’t want to know,” he said shaking his head.

  And with that, they all sat down to eat possibly the worst meal in the history of the human race. Both Vargev and Michael gingerly tried their food, the big Russian Commando tried to break one of the eggs, he found it particularly resilient. Muttering a few Russian curses, he smashed it on the tabletop with a loud bang that shook everyone else’s dishes; nearly knocking Michael’s water off the table. Finally, the giant egg cracked and a thick, odd smelling purple ooze came seeping out of it. He felt quite nauseous at the thought of having to eat it.

  Michael perceived that the Commando turned a shade of green. “What’s the matter; big tough Commando can’t eat rotten egg,” he said laughing.

  “Yeah watch me,” Vargev retorted. And with an effort of will he pushed the thought to the back of his mind; and scooping up some of the foul smelling purple ooze onto his spoon he put it into his mouth, it was very bitter and had the consistency of thick condensed milk.

  “Now it’s your turn,” Vargev replied almost retching; his stomach desperately trying to hold down some of that horrific egg he just ate. I’m going to feel that later, he thought.

  Michael stared at the slimy lungs adorning his plate and with a little effort he managed to cut one with his knife. A cloudy colourless fluid spurted out across his plate; he backed off turning a sickly shade of green.

  “Go on,” Vargev said encouraging him mischievously.

  “I’m getting to it,” heaven help me, Michael thought as he picked up a piece of lung with his fork and slowly put it into his mouth.

  There was an immediate salty taste to it, and it was very chewy; much like chewing on soft rubber. He quickly swallowed it down before it had a chance to come back up.

  “What does it taste like?”

  “Damn salty.”

  “We could do with reprogramming the food synthesisers to something a little more palatable to humans,” Vargev said.

  “I don’t even know if there is anyone aboard with the skills to do that; at the moment just keeping the ship running and making basic repairs are about the maximum the crew can handle. I could try but I’m only an ambassador, not a systems engineer. I wouldn’t know the first thing about what goes on inside there,” Kerulithar said.

  “In that case, we could do with trying to find our equipment,” Vargev said; because I’m damn well not eating that shite again, he thought.

  “Right,” Michael replied thinking the same. “Where is it located?”

  “The Krenarans store all the equipment in the forward hold; deck four,” Kerulithar replied.

  As he looked over at the slumped forms of the Krenaran bodies in the corner, a question flashed across Michael’s mind. “These Krenarans, why do they have white blood?”

  “Their blood is based on calcium, which is also why they have a much thicker, heavier bone structure than ours. This is also why they have evolved to become a lot broader and taller than most other races in the galaxy. Ours is based on cobalt, which gives us our blue-ish pigmentation.”

  “So why do they have huge variations in size?”

  “They are known as the Krenaran overclass, scientists from many races have debated this, as far as I know there are three main theories. Some believe it is simple natural variation at work, others believe it could be variations in the calcium levels in their bloodstream, therefore creating larger specimens. The third theory is that the Krenarans could be purposely in-breeding to create genetic deviations for a kind of ruling elite.”

  “So just how many of this overclass are there?” Vargev asked.

  “Nobody knows, the Krenarans jealously guard their numbers, however Axus was definitely one of this overclass.”


  “He mentioned a master?” Michael asked.

  “Then it would be safe to say that this master could well be a member of the overclass as well.”

  Michael and Vargev exchanged worried glances, judging by how hard Axus was to defeat, if there are more of these overclass then the E.D.F could be in for even more trouble.

  Once they had finished eating their horrendous meal, they headed towards the hold.

  “So what did you think of dinner then, my dear fellow?” Michael asked in a mocking upper class accent.

  “There were indeed generous portions, were they not? although a trifle under amusing I do believe,” Vargev replied in kind. The two men laughed in unison as they headed toward the forward hold. A bout of nausea caused them both to hold their stomachs.

  The forward hold itself was a tightly cramped maze containing everything from spare parts to captured weapons. It was dimly lit and gloomy; the only sources of illumination came from a strip of white lights positioned within a curve where the wall met the low sloping ceiling. Some of the equipment had a fine layer of dust on them; indicating that they hadn’t been used for quite some time.

  Vargev managed to locate his pack; and his assault rifle, “ah, my baby I thought I had lost you.” He said, stroking it in jocular admiration. Michael had managed to find his own borrowed Armschlager too. Together they picked up their packs and headed toward the command centre.

  For the next few days of the journey the crew busied themselves making basic repairs to parts of the ship that were damaged in the fighting. As well as disposing of the multitude of Krenaran bodies which were slumped all over the ship. Both Vargev and Michael ate from their ration packs; rather than dare risk the food synthesisers again.

  Chapter 9 The Solarian council

  “What’s our E.T.A to the Solarian border?” Michael asked for the umpteenth time.

  “One hour,” Vargev sighed. It’s only been twenty minutes since you last asked, he thought. “Hold on a minute,” he said eyeing the sensor readouts. “I think I’ve got something.”

  “What is it?” Kerulithar asked as he approached where Vargev was sat.

  “It looks like we’ve got six bogeys inbound and closing fast.”

  “They’re definitely Krenaran,” Kerulithar pointed out; peering over Vargevs shoulder.

  Well no shit Sherlock, take first prize. Vargev thought, however he kept it to himself.

  “We need maximum power to the engines, tell the Faccadian we are going to need everything he can give us.” This is going to be damn tight, Michael thought.

  Kerulithar spoke into a console he was sat at. Before saying, “the Faccadian says, he only just managed to fix the damage that happened the last time you tried that.”

  “Well, tell him he’ll just have to fix it again won’t he. Either that or we won’t have a ship left to save.”

  Kerulithar spoke into his console again, “he says, point taken.”

  “Damn straight,” Vargev piped up.

  “We have to hold them off until we are over the border,” Michael pointed out. Whether there is much of a ship to cross the border with is another matter entirely, he thought.

  The Liberty rapidly increased its speed through plasma drive, a flotilla of six Krenaran stealth ships in hot pursuit.

  “Where the hell did they come from anyway?” Michael asked.

  “No idea, they must have been shadowing us, that single surviving Krenaran ship must have brought his buddies,” Vargev suggested.

  “I’ll try and scan for any nearby Solarian ships; they regularly patrol this area of space,” Kerulithar said as he keyed in the controls for the external sensors; sharing the data with Vargevs’ console, and began scanning.

  “They’ll be in weapons range in one minute; they’re still god-damn closing!” Vargev shouted.

  “I’m trying my fucking best!” Michael retorted.

  “You’re best is going to get us all fucking killed!” Vargev shouted angrily back.

  “Do you want to pilot this thing is that it? because you aren’t qualified, so sit down you big Russian fuck.” Michael shouted back.

  “I’m picking up a patrol of three Solarian vessels,” Kerulithar announced.

  The other two men were far too busy shouting and swearing at each other to hear him. Instead he silently keyed in the controls for long range communications.

  “Solarian vessels, this is ambassador Kerulithar of the Solarian confederacy, we are being pursued by six enemy Krenaran vessels and require urgent assistance.”

  The other two men stopped their bickering and suddenly turned to Kerulithar, “What did you just do?” they both asked in unison.

  “I took the liberty of scanning for a patrol of Solarian ships and contacted them asking for assistance,” Kerulithar stated calmly.

  “Well at least one of us is trying to get us out of this shit hole,” Vargev said.

  The command centre speakers suddenly blazed into life, “unknown Krenaran vessel, you will surrender and prepare to be boarded. Any hostile action will be met with all due force.”

  “They don’t believe us; they must think we are part of the same fleet,” Kerulithar said exasperatedly.

  He hurriedly keyed in the controls again, “Solarian vessels, I am commanding a captured Krenaran vessel, we are headed for Solarian space, my personal identification is 904157 dash 3412 Keru 118. Please respond, repeat we are in need of urgent assistance.”

  Just as Kerulithar had stopped speaking; twin bright green flashes of energy shot past the ship, coating the upper dorsal section of the Liberty in a bright green glow, and lighting up the command centre in a vivid emerald hue.

  “They’re firing!” Vargev shouted, stating the obvious.

  Michael wrestled against the controls on the pilot’s chair, sending the ship into a rapid barrel roll in the hopes of evading the worst of the Krenarans’ attacks.

  Multiple particle cannon shots flashed past the ship as the Krenaran attackers tried to get a bead on the Liberty.

  “Bring us out of plasma drive,” Michael said rather dejectedly.

  “That will kill us for sure!” Vargev retorted.

  “I can’t evade all six of them.”

  Kerulithar reluctantly did so. The ship dropped back into normal space again closely followed by the Krenaran fleet rapidly in pursuit.

  Michael bravely wrenched against the controls; sweating profusely, his arms ached heavily, and his teeth bit into his bottom lip, drawing a small amount of blood. Such was the level of determination to survive; to get his ship to safety.

  However the weight of fire was simply too great, multiple particle cannon shots criss-crossed the area of space the Liberty flew through, and several torpedoes flashed across the stern, port and starboard side of the ship.

  Michael Alexander, and Nikolai Vargev; the two survivors, the two people who had made it all this way against all the odds silently prayed for a miracle.

  Several more particle cannon shots slammed into the rear of the Liberty, rocking the ship from stem to stern; throwing Vargev completely out of his seat. Sparks exploded out from smashed consoles, support beams crashed down. The smell of sizzled circuitry assaulted the nose, and the thick smoke billowing from the smashed consoles and several small fires caused everyone to choke.

  “Rear hull plating is down!” Kerulithar cried out over the din of explosions and battle.

  Yet more shots flashed past the damaged Liberty.

  “Not now. Not when we’ve come this close!” Michael shouted in sheer frustration.

  Two torpedoes roared their way toward the Liberty. Slamming into the hull and instantly detonating, blasting apart the main sub-light drive with a huge explosion; causing carnage onboard as fire swept through the main engine room. Emergency bulkheads dropped into place to contain the fires.

  Bodies were burnt beyond all recognition, charred corpses lay everywhere as flames engulfed large areas of decks four, five and six. Smashed support girders and bulkheads litt
ered the area.

  Michael, Vargev, and Kerulithar were flung to the floor by the sheer force of the huge explosion; Michael was thrown clear of his seat, and lay motionless on the deck.

  Vargev slowly managed to get back to his feet, a deep ragged gash bleeding profusely down the right side of his face. Kerulithar slowly stood also, his blue-ish hued skin, had turned black in places from burns and debris that had melted into his skin, his dark blue blood seeping from several cuts.

  The Krenaran ships moved into position to surround the stricken Liberty; looking like vultures about to sound the death knell to the disabled ship. And for all the world the ship seemed doomed.

  Three more plasma wakes rapidly opened up in space close by. With horrific speed, three Solarian ships emerged out of plasma drive; silver in colour and resembling a large metallic crescent with a ferocious looking raised metallic beaklike structure at the centre.

  Bright blue incandescent beams shot forth from their beak like protrusions; instantly two Krenaran ships were totally decimated by the sheer force of the weapons. What remained of their hulls trailed fire and debris out into open space.

  The remaining Krenaran ships ignored the Liberty, and moved to intercept this deadly new threat.

  Several high energy torpedoes smashed into another Krenaran ship; devastating the upper dorsal area of the vessel, its particle cannon totally torn away, and its torpedo launcher left a flaming ruin. On fire, it limped away.

  The remaining two Krenaran ships returned fire on their Solarian attackers; particle cannon shots slammed into one of the Solarian ships. However a crackling blue energy field shimmered into existence and shielded the ship from the impacts.

  The remaining Krenaran ships dispersed before the speed and ferocity of the Solarian attack.

  “Ambassador Kerulithar, please respond,” A voice spoke over the crackling speakers.

  Groggily Kerulithar limped his way over to the communications console; fortunately it had managed to survive the attack somewhat intact. “This is ambassador Kerulithar; I am unharmed, however the ship has suffered severe damage. We have casualties on board, main sub-light drive is down.”