I.K.S. Gorkon Book Three

by Keith R. A. DeCandido

  To Avrik’s surprise, the aches in his legs lessened. This is it, he thought.

  “Yesterday, we received the latest transmission from Shipmaster Vor Ellis’s exploration conveyance. Instead of a straightforward report on the digret’s activities, this was a continuous feed.” He reached into his pouch and took out the recorder onto which he had copied Ellis’s transmission. Avrik held the recorder in his right midleg while touching a control with his right foreleg. A low-resolution holographic image of the flight sphere of Ellis’s conveyance appeared over his hand.

  Avrik had watched this recording dozens of times, so he focused his attention instead on the reactions of the others in the room.

  The first cleric looked horrified, and then dismissive. All of the oligarchs looked concerned, as did Maskrol. First Oligarch Jorg was inscrutable—but Avrik supposed that was part and parcel of his position.

  What surprised Avrik was the reaction of the first defensor. Ralla looked as if he knew what was coming.

  There were gaps in the transmission, but one thing that came through clearly was the aftermath of Ellis firing her conveyance’s batteries.

  “This is not possible,” First Cleric Vor Hennak whispered. “Shipmaster Ellis has obviously faked this transmission—”

  For the first time, First Defensor Vor Ralla spoke. “Vor Ellis is one of the finest shipmasters alive. She would never falsify records in this manner. I find your accusation offensive.”

  Avrik tried to keep his legs from waving. One did not challenge a cleric so brazenly, least of all the first cleric.

  “And I find this entire proceeding offensive!” Hennak said. “Those images are heresy!”

  Maskrol said, “These images are reality, First Cleric. And they are only the beginning.”

  Pointing at the holographic image, which Avrik had paused pending his being given permission to continue his report, Hennak said, “That image cannot be real! Nothing natural looks like that!”

  “I’m afraid it gets worse.” Maskrol waved his foreleg at Avrik. “Continue.”

  Avrik started the recording again, but said nothing. The images spoke for themselves. Everyone in the first oligarch’s office watched as the alien conveyance fired a weapon of its own, an energy beam as devastating as the batteries were, which tore through the litrarin hull like it was parchment. They watched as Ellis’s crew were blown into the vacuum of space. They watched as the conveyance died.

  They watched until the transmission ceased, its source destroyed.

  Hennak muttered a prayer to Doane for the preservation of the souls under the shipmaster’s command.

  “Thank you, Avrik,” the first oligarch finally said after a long silence. “It would seem—”

  “Excuse me, First Oligarch.” Brannik’s interruption surprised Avrik, but if anyone could do so without fear of reproach, it was the second oligarch. “I’m afraid that is only the first of the reports from Yer Maskrol’s employee.”

  First Oligarch Jorg’s forelegs waved with agitation. “There’s more?”

  It was Ralla who answered. “Yes, sir, there is.”

  Avrik’s legs started aching again. What does the military know about this?

  Touching another control on his recorder, Avrik said, “This morning, shortly after we were able to clean up Shipmaster Vor Ellis’s transmission to the quality of the images you saw, our outer telescope detected an object headed directly for hegemony space.” The images of the telescope’s scans shone over Avrik’s hand. Each scan brought into greater focus the object in question. It matched the odd, angled shape of the very same alien that had destroyed Ellis’s conveyance. “If they continue at the speed we have been detecting, they will reach the Ninth Outer Station in three digret s.”

  Maskrol waved a foreleg at Avrik, indicating that he no longer was required to speak. Avrik was both grateful and disappointed. He had done well, and found that he enjoyed providing this briefing for the most powerful people in the hegemony—but these were the most powerful people in the hegemony, and he didn’t want to push his luck.

  Then Maskrol said, “Our theory is that the aliens were able to trace Vor Ellis’s transmission. We believe that they wish to continue their aggression against us.”

  “I still think—” Hennak started.

  Ralla cut him off. “There’s more, First Cleric—First Oligarch,” he added in a conciliatory tone. “One of our rim patrollers detected the same thing that the space center’s telescope saw. The configuration is such that it cannot be a hegemony vessel.”

  “What is your opinion, First Defensor?” the first oligarch asked.

  “Despite what the clerics would have us believe, there are other people elsewhere in the universe, and one of them is about to break down our sphere and try to destroy us.”

  Brannik said, “We don’t have any proof that they’re hostile to us.”

  Waving her midlegs in amusement, Fifth Oligarch Yer Blos said, “What, destroying Vor Ellis’s conveyance wasn’t enough?”

  “Vor Ellis fired first.”

  “Yes,” First Oligarch Jorg said, “with our most powerful weapon—and they just shrugged it off.”

  “Not quite, First Oligarch,” Ralla said. “It was our second-most-powerful weapon. The plasma weapons are ready to go, and can be installed in all our military vessels.”

  Waving his hindlegs in irritation, First Oligarch Jorg said, “I was told that the plasma weapons were still in the testing phase.”

  “We had been taking a cautious approach with the testing,” Ralla said, “since we were in no hurry to implement them. Now we have a reason to be quick—those aliens will be here in three digret s, and we need to be ready for them. The batteries aren’t going to be sufficient.”

  The first oligarch then did what Avrik had been waiting for: he spoke to the first cleric. “Vor Hennak, what do you think?”

  It was half an engret before the first cleric finally spoke. “I think that this is madness. But I also cannot deny the evidence. No Elabrej could possibly have made that monstrous thing that is flying toward our skies. And no Elabrej would so wantonly destroy one of our conveyances. Whatever those things are, they are an affront to the Demiurges and they must be stopped.”

  Waving one foreleg in affirmation, Jorg said, “I agree. First Defensor, begin implementation of the plasma weapons and prepare a battle plan. I want to be ready for those aliens when they arrive.” To Maskrol, he said, “Thank you, Yer Maskrol, you have done a great service to the hegemony today. I want you to return to the space center immediately and continue scans. Direct all our telescopes to the effort, and send all your intelligence to Vor Ralla.”

  “Of course, First Oligarch. It is an honor to be here.”

  With that, Maskrol turned and moved toward the exit. Avrik placed the recorder in his pouch and then followed Maskrol.

  The entire meeting had taken place using the Common tongue, which Avrik had expected. He had heard stories that the oligarchs all conducted their meetings in Vlrinto, but he had no idea if that was true or not. That language was the exclusive province of the Vor, so Avrik would not have been surprised to find that it was true.

  Then First Oligarch Jorg spoke to Second Oligarch Vor Brannik.

  The Vlrinto tongue was a carefully guarded secret. It was illegal for any non-strata to know the language, and stratas who were not Vor were not encouraged to learn it either—for a non-Vor to speak it was considered a huge breach of etiquette.

  For that reason, Avrik had kept his own knowledge of Vlrinto to himself.

  No doubt, First Oligarch Vor Jorg felt confident that neither Maskrol nor Avrik could understand him when he said to Brannik in Vlrinto, “It looks like this may be it, Brannik. These aliens are the way to finally put down the separatists once and for all. The people will—”

  Whatever else the first oligarch said was lost when the entryway to the sphere closed behind Avrik.

  His legs ached even more as he and Maskrol headed back to the space ce
nter.

  One way or another, it seemed, the hegemony was about to go to war.

  Wirrk practically ran onto the bridge from his office when the alert came from Commander Komor that they had entered the Elabrej star system.

  For a long time, Wirrk had never really appreciated the use of universal translator technology, the work of many Klingon linguists and programmers, with aid provided by their counterparts in the Federation. Wirrk had never seen the need to make it easier to communicate with non-Klingons, nor had he seen any need to understand the gutter tongues of aliens. Let them learn a real language if they wish to be understood, he had often thought.

  It was Komor who had pointed out to him the intelligence value of being able to translate the languages of other species, and that benefit was proving itself several times over now.

  When Komor had summoned him, he was reading the translation of the transmissions of the alien vessel they destroyed. They came from a governmental body that called itself the Elabrej Hegemony, and they were exploring beyond their home solar system.

  The Kravokh was their first encounter with an alien species. Wirrk glowed with pride at the fact that he was responsible for making it one that would be remembered in song.

  As he entered the bridge, he said, “Report!”

  Komor was standing at the operations console with B’Etloj. “We are approaching the Elabrej home system. Sensors are detecting seven ships of similar configuration to the one we defeated.”

  “Do they have the same armament?”

  Komor and B’Etloj exchanged a glance. Then Komor said, “It is impossible to be sure. These vessels use the same power source as the other one.”

  “What of the cloaking device?”

  “Engineering still has been unable to effect repairs,” Komor said.

  Wirrk snarled as he sat in his command chair. He had given the chief engineer, a coward named Sak, one day to fix the cloaking device. When Sak failed to do so, Wirrk had personally sunk his d’k tahg in the petaQ’s chest. Sadly, his staff had been unable to make any progress in the two days since Sak’s death.

  Not that it matters all that much—these Elabrej detected us while cloaked before, so that advantage is not what it could be.

  “Shields?” Wirrk then asked.

  At that, Komor smiled. “Engineering has been able to adjust the shield frequencies to better defend us against the Elabrej weapon.”

  Laughing, Wirrk thought that Sak’s staff were not quite the worthless animals their late commanding officer was.

  “Alert status,” Wirrk said. “Raise shields, arm all weapons.”

  As Komor moved to sit next to Wirrk, B’Etloj said, “Sir, we’re receiving a transmission from the enemy vessels. It is in several languages—including the one we’ve translated.”

  Komor said, “What does it say?”

  “ ‘Alien conveyance, you are not welcome in Elabrej skies. Surrender immediately, or we will destroy you.’ ”

  Wirrk laughed. “Excellent. I prefer a foe that faces us with their eyes open.”

  “Disruptors and torpedoes armed and ready, sir,” the gunner said. Even as he spoke, four warriors took up position at the secondary gunner positions. Those positions controlled the twelve rotating disruptor cannons placed at various points around the ship.

  The pilot added, “We are now entering the star system.”

  “Slow to impulse,” Komor said.

  “When will we be in weapons range?” Wirrk asked.

  “Two minutes,” said the pilot.

  Turning to his first officer, Wirrk said, “Let us not waste our torpedoes on these creatures just yet, Commander.”

  Komor nodded. “Train all fore disruptors on the ship that sent the transmission.”

  Wirrk approved of his first officer’s course of action. That was probably the lead ship, and might well have contained the leader of this battle for the Elabrej.

  “Sir,” the gunner said, “that vessel is protected by the others—it is the innermost.”

  A wise strategy, Wirrk thought. These foes are not unworthy. Good.

  “In range,” the gunner said.

  “Fire!” Komor cried.

  Wirrk watched the screen, feeling the blood burn in his veins. Though these people had one devastating weapon, they were ready for it now. From the readings they’d taken of the debris, besides that one energy weapon they also had an impressive armament of explosive missiles, which would be dangerous if the Kravokh’s shields were to fail. As long as our shields hold out, though, the missiles will be as useless as a dull d’k tahg against a trigak.

  Disruptor fire leapt from the emplacements throughout the Kravokh and struck the Elabrej ships. The closest ship’s foremost sphere splintered and exploded, the effects cascading across the entire vessel until it was destroyed. Another of the Elabrej ships was damaged. Wirrk had been hoping for more devastation than that. Whatever their hull is constructed of, it’s strong.

  Then he realized what needed to be done. “The tubes.” Turning around to the gunner, he said, “Aim for the tubes, not the spheres!”

  “Yes, sir!” The gunner reprogrammed the firing pattern.

  “Sir, there is an energy buildup,” B’Etloj said.

  “Where?” Komor asked.

  B’Etloj looked up from her console. “In all the remaining ships, sir.”

  “Their energy weapon,” Komor said dismissively.

  “No, sir, these readings are not consistent with what we encountered before—it’s an order of magnitude more powerful.”

  Wirrk turned around and stared at his operations officer, as did Komor. “Say that again, Ensign.”

  “The energy buildup is an order of magnitude more powerful than the weapon we encountered three days ago. I do not believe that our shields will hold against it.”

  As B’Etloj spoke, the Kravokh’s disruptor fire destroyed another of the Elabrej ships by striking at the tubes that interlinked the vessel’s spheres, and it exploded in a fiery conflagration that gave Wirrk some comfort to ameliorate B’Etloj’s words. Now only five vessels remained.

  Wirrk turned back to the screen to see those five ships start to glow. “Gunner, prepare quantum torpedoes, full spread on all the enemy vessels and fire immediately!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Even as the gunner acknowledged the order, the glow on each of the Elabrej ships focused. Instead of surrounding the entire set of spheres, each reduced to one spot at the center of the largest sphere on each ship.

  “Pilot, evasive maneuvers!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The gunner said, “Firing torpedoes.”

  In response, the Kravokh spit out half a dozen quantum torpedoes, one at each of the ships, with the sixth also going for the one at the center—the vessel that sent the message, its immediate protection now destroyed.

  Even as the torpedoes made their way through space, the five glows then shot forward like ghIntaq spears in a thin stream of concentrated energy.

  Wirrk frowned as he realized that the streams of energy were heading not for the Kravokh, but instead to a point several qelI’qams in front of the ship’s nose.

  Most of the Kravokh’s torpedoes hit their targets, and many of them caused damage, though not as much as Wirrk would have hoped.

  Not that that was his primary concern at the moment. There was much that was to be commended about the Chancellor-class vessels. They had the latest and best in sensor and tactical technology, they had a dozen disruptor emplacements, as well as one large disruptor cannon, a massive complement of both photon and quantum torpedoes, they could carry fifteen hundred ground troops, and they could travel between warp eight and warp nine with no strain on the engines.

  What they could not do was maneuver well at impulse speeds.

  The energy streams converged—no, merged into a single massive beam, at least three times the diameter of the five original beams—and headed straight for the Kravokh’s position.

  To his cred
it, the pilot did the best he could to move the Kravokh out of the path of the beam, but the ship was simply too large. A quarter of a qelI’qam long, a fifth of a qelI’qam wide, the Kravokh presented too big a target for their foes to miss.

  Wirrk’s hopes that the shields would hold against this weapon were dashed instantly, as the beam’s impact was felt throughout the bridge. Wirrk found himself starting to float out of his chair even as he heard the sounds of consoles exploding all around him. The stench of burned conduits assaulted his nostrils and smoke blinded him.

  Alarms blared throughout the bridge, but B’Etloj made herself heard over it. “Shields are down! Communications offline! Warp engines offline! Artificial gravity offline! Hull breaches on decks—hull breaches on almost every deck! Impulse power down to—”

  The helm console exploded, sending the pilot across the bridge in front of Wirrk. His corpse spun in the air in front of him. The captain gripped the armrests of his chair.

  B’Etloj amended her report. “Impulse engines down. Engineering reports that a warp-core breach is imminent.”

  Komor managed to say the words “Eject the—” before the sound of wrenching metal blotted out his words.

  Wirrk’s ears popped as suddenly he felt himself pulled violently toward the ceiling. One of the hull breaches was on the bridge, and the air screamed as it was drawn toward the vacuum of space. Wirrk looked up to see that the hole was barely wide enough for a person to fit through.

  Before he could think on that further, Komor grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him down. It did little against the pressure of the explosive decompression, but it was enough to make Komor strike the ceiling and go out into space first.

  The commander straightened his body, raising his arms over his head even as he slid through the hole—

  —partway. The bridge quieted as Komor’s body sealed the hull breach.

  For now. You have done well, Commander—your place in Sto-Vo-Kor is assured.

  Wirrk fully expected to join him soon.

  I underestimated these Elabrej. Even a baby targ can kill a trigak if its teeth are sharp enough and it bites on a vulnerable part of the body.