Chroniech!

by Doug Farren

  During the Human — Tholtaran war only one juggernaut had ever been lost in battle, and only at a tremendous cost in lives and ships. Stricklen had a personal dislike for the juggernaut since his grandfather had died at the hands of one. As far as Stricklen was concerned, a juggernaut was virtually indestructible.

  "Contact Sorbith immediately!" he ordered. "I don't want to hear any excuses for him not responding. I want to see his face on my monitor in 30 seconds."

  Stricklen got the second best thing. Sorbith's voice rang out from the console, "What is it captain? Your crewman informed me it was a matter of life and death that I speak to you."

  "That's putting it lightly," Stricklen replied. "We have picked up a large group of ships heading this way. One of them is a Tholtaran juggernaut. I suggest we conclude our negotiations at a later date so we can leave this area of space post-haste."

  "A Tholtaran battle fleet?" Sorbith replied, his voice full of surprise and anger. "I hope like hell they can explain what they're doing here. I'll transmit a demand for an explanation personally. My ship informs me the communications delay will be about 15 minutes. I'll let you know what their reply is."

  "Just in case they are up to no good do you want us to make preparations to leave?" Stricklen asked.

  "Negative, standby," came the terse reply.

  Stricklen could not understand what Sorbith was doing but, being a good officer, he waited. Looking up at the tactical display he noted the juggernaut would be within weapons range in just under 5 hours. Stricklen wanted to be long gone before then.

  His patience had almost run out when Sorbith finally replied, "Remain as you are captain. The Hess assures me it can handle the threat. After what I've seen down here, I believe it."

  "It?"

  "You had better review what has taken place down here since we've arrived. Your computer should have the recording of our meeting with the Hess. I suggest you look at it. I should also congratulate you on your successful engagement against the Army of Humanity destroyers. Very good tactics. Sorbith out."

  Stricklen stared off into the distance for fifteen seconds while he nervously tapped his fingers on the edge of his console. Taking a deep breath he announced, "Well, if that's the way he wants it, that's what we'll do. We are under the protection of the Hess, or so I am told. God help us!"

  Without another word, Stricklen walked off the bridge and went straight to his stateroom where he immediately opened a fresh bottle of rum. Before taking his first drink he looked at the gold colored liquid and thought, This job is going to turn me into an alcoholic. I should have followed my Dad's advice and become a lawyer. And with that he tilted the bottle and took a long slow swallow.

  Stricklen, however, was not an alcoholic and, despite what some might think, he was always very careful as to how much he drank. The ship's executive officer, who was also a good friend, understood completely. Years ago, Doug had thought Stricklen had an alcohol problem but, after getting to know his captain, he learned otherwise.

  Doug understood Stricklen needed to feel as if he was always in control. Alcohol affected that feeling, which was precisely why Stricklen would never allow himself to become intoxicated. Ken simply enjoyed the taste of good rum and the warm sensation it created as it slid down his throat. It was his personal method of dealing with stress.

  Ken was still in his stateroom when Sorbith called back. "The Tholtaran's are here to take the Kyrra and the stasis device back to their home planet for analysis," Sorbith announced. "Apparently, the Tholtaran high command has decided we are not handling the situation properly and they are going to take control of things. A strong concern was also expressed about the fact that a Human ship was carrying the device. The high command claims that without the Kyrra technology the Alliance will lose the war with the Chroniech. We have been given four hours to come to a decision."

  "What was your reply?" Stricklen cautiously asked.

  "You Humans have a good term — I told them to go stuff themselves. I have sent a message to sector command informing them of the situation. As for your orders, they have not changed. The Hess will provide protection. Negotiations are proceeding smoothly and I expect to return within a few days. Until then, sit tight."

  Stricklen grudgingly agreed and ended the link. He then settled down to sip his rum and to contemplate his possible future. In his eyes, things had just gone from bad to worse. The self-inspection lasted less than a minute as Stricklen realized why he had come to his cabin in the first place. Putting aside the approaching danger, he instructed the ship's computer to play back the recordings from the Tri Star.

  Ninety minutes later, Ken's concentration was interrupted by a report from the bridge. "We have achieved orbit," the bridge officer informed him.

  "How are the repairs coming?"

  "Sledgehammer three has been repaired. All hull breaches have been sealed and the affected compartments repressurized. All other repairs are proceeding as best as possible."

  "Thank you. Have the bodies of our dead been recovered?"

  "Only two sir. One was blown out into space. The two that were recovered have been placed in the morgue."

  "Thank you — Stricklen out."

  Stricklen paused to silently consider the lives that had been lost. This was not the first time he had lost some of his crew in battle and he was sure it would not be the last. The bodies would be held in the cold morgue until they could be delivered to their respective families. He would have to conduct a funeral service for the one who had been lost to deep space. He quickly checked in with Scarboro to make sure the damage control teams were not having any problems and then returned to his review of what had been taking place on the planet below.

  Some captains probably would have been out keeping a close eye on the repairs. Stricklen took a different approach. He knew the capabilities of his crew and he trusted they would always do their best. He knew he did not have to oversee their every activity and the crew seemed to appreciate it.

  Three hours later, Ken had finished watching the events of the first meeting between the Alliance and the Hess and he was pacing back and forth trying to figure a way out of their situation. The door chime announced that the XO was requesting permission to enter. "What is it Doug?" Stricklen inquired motioning toward a seat.

  "The Tholtaran ships have taken up a position just outside the system. We monitored a communications between them and the AOH destroyers. Apparently the Tholtarans didn't want them around."

  "And their reply?"

  "They ignored the Tholtarans until four heavy cruisers broke formation and headed toward them. When it became clear that the Tholtarans meant business the AOH gave up and left."

  Stricklen sat down heavily in a chair and motioned for his XO to join him. Ken held a glass containing a tiny amount of gold rum in front of him and swirled it around. After a moment he said, "I'm not going to be the focal point of another war. And that's exactly what's going to happen if we can't think of a way to stop it."

  "How do you figure?" Doug asked reaching for a glass.

  Stricklen poured a small amount of rum into Doug's glass as he said, "We have a Tholtaran battle fleet waiting to jump us as soon as we leave the protection of Hess space. Sorbith has already called for Alliance reinforcements and the Army of Humanity will no doubt be back with more ships — if they have them. What will happen when the Alliance ships get here? Some of them will undoubtedly be Human, some Tholtaran, and others crewed by who knows which species. Will they remain with the Alliance fleet or will they side with one of the others or will they try to take the device for themselves? How many other races are going to try to make a grab for Kyrra technology? I'm telling you, this is going to tear the Alliance apart before it's over."

  Doug sipped his rum before replying. "You're right of course. And right now, a divided Alliance is the last thing we need with the Chroniech on the warpath. Have you reviewed the happenings from below?"

  Ken nodded his head and seemed to stare into h
is glass as if it were a crystal ball. "This entire situation is too much to believe. Technology so advanced it makes ours look almost primitive by comparison; ancient civilizations that existed before we even learned how to make fire; and now the Chroniech. Tell me Doug, why do you think they started attacking the Alliance like they have?"

  "I would guess their expanding empire finally ran into ours. You heard what they said. To them, we are nothing more than a disease which needs to be eradicated."

  Ken rolled his glass between his hands. "I think their recent attacks indicate there's something more than our just being in the way," he said. "They were attacking outposts and now all of a sudden they have launched an all-out offensive. Have you seen the latest from central command?"

  "I have not had the time to review the reports. I figured it would just show more of the same."

  Stricklen turned around and activated his computer console. "Dragon, display tactical summary of recent Chroniech activity." A star map appeared on the screen. The information was displayed as various shapes and color codes which, to a practiced eye, quickly showed what was happening. "Do you see what they are doing?"

  Doug scanned the display for several seconds. He let out a long whistle as he settled back in his seat. Still staring at the screen he said, "They're working their way into the heart of the Alliance, destroying everything in their path."

  Doug examined the data for a moment longer then continued, "Looks like they pick an area, attack the military bases first beginning with the largest, and then systematically destroy everything else. They're making a beeline toward the heart of the Alliance and we don't seem to be slowing them down at all. Aren't we fighting back?"

  Stricklen turned the monitor off as he replied. "The Alliance has been at peace for over fifty years. We are mobilizing as fast as possible but it seems the Chroniech have us outgunned for the moment. Incidents like this Tholtaran fleet sitting out there aren't helping us either. Those ships should be protecting the Alliance, not threatening us."

  Stricklen abruptly stood up and started pacing as he continued, "The Chroniech seem to have an almost unlimited supply of ships at their disposal. Warships from all parts of the Alliance are on their way to the battle zone, but most are still weeks away.

  "The enemy can coordinate their attacks with uncanny accuracy, probably because they can talk to their central command almost as easily as you and I are talking right now, while we have to rely on a communications system that is slow in comparison. Their ships are faster than ours with better weapons and more capable shields. Unless something breaks in our favor - such as assistance from the Kyrra or the Hess - the Alliance is finished."

  Stricklen stopped in front of the computer display and angrily waved his hand at it. "Look at the map! At their current rate of progress, the Chroniech will be at Almaranus within two months."

  Angry, Doug stood up and set his glass down with a loud thunk causing a small amount of rum to splash unnoticed onto the table top. "I will not accept that! I don't care how old the Chroniech are. We will fight them with everything we have and we will win whether or not the Kyrra help us."

  "My original question," Stricklen said, ignoring Doug's anger, "was why are the Chroniech attacking us in such an all out manner? They've known about us for a long time — long enough to learn our language — and they did not attack us with such force until just recently. Why?"

  Still angry, Doug picked up his glass of rum and finished it off. Setting the glass back down with deliberate care he replied, "Perhaps they've been gathering their forces, waiting until all their ships were in position to begin their assault. I suspect you might have another theory though."

  "It's just a theory, but it makes perfect sense to me," Stricklen began marking off each point by grasping a finger of his left hand with his right. "The Chroniech have observed us long enough to learn our language. Why we have not detected them until now is another mystery. They are also descendants of the slavers. We know from the Kyrra that the slaver empire collapsed and they became a hunted species.”

  "The first time the Chroniech ever contacted us was when we discovered the old slaver transport. Their only interest was in gaining custody of the transport and its contents. When we refused to give them the stasis chamber they attacked and they have continued to attack ever since."

  Doug had turned to face his captain. A look of understanding appeared on his face. Interrupting Stricklen, Doug continued the thought process. "That's right! The Chroniech mentioned that the ship belonged to them. In other words, they remember their past of forty thousand years ago. You think, they think, we have obtained some sort of weapon from their past glory and once we unlock its secrets we will use it against them. They are trying to wipe us out before we can figure out how to use it!"

  "Exactly!" Stricklen almost shouted. Pouring his XO another small drink he continued. "The Chroniech have obviously passed down from generation to generation the story of their past and how they were once a mighty and feared people. The story probably goes on to tell how the inferior races rose up to destroy them.”

  "Today, instead of enslaving other races, the Chroniech simply wipe them out. Their entire culture must be infused with stories of revenge and hatred. If that's true, then there can never be peace with them, they will fight until one of us is eliminated."

  "I'm not too sure I like the sound of that," Doug said sitting back down.

  Stricklen walked over to the porthole, a rare luxury on a warship and something only found in the captain's cabin. Staring down at the planet below he said, "It appears as if our only hope is with Sorbith and his negotiations with the Hess."

  "I wouldn't lose trust in the Alliance," Doug said moving to stand next to his captain. "Ever since its creation following the Human — Tholtaran war the Alliance has been at peace showing that we can all work together. It won't take us long to gear up our military machine to fight off the Chroniech. Right now, people are scared and they see Kyrra technology as a quick solution to a new problem."

  Ken let out a long sigh. "I hope you're right Doug. Maybe the arrival of the AOH and the Tholtaran battle fleet has me wondering about our own future. We need to stick together and if we don't we're not going to survive this or any other challenge."

  "That reminds me," Doug changed the subject. "Where the hell did those AOH ships come from?"

  "I took a few minutes to look them up," Ken replied. "They're a radical group that formed not long after Earth joined the Consortium. The newly formed Earth government eventually banned them and the group took off to form a Human colony free from non-Human contamination."

  "I remember that part," Doug said, "I want to know how they got their hands on heavily armed warships."

  Ken watched as the planet spun below them. "Their colony is now a separate world protected under the Alliance treaty. Although not a member of the Alliance, the population is Human and they can easily move about the Alliance without revealing where they came from. Alliance members, however, are banned from their planet. They could easily have built a large warship fleet using Alliance technology without anyone knowing about it."

  "Perhaps we should check in on them from time to time to see what they're up to," Doug commented.

  "Perhaps," Ken replied. "It's against Alliance law but maybe that law should be changed. For now though, we have other problems."

  The two officers stood at the porthole in silence for several long minutes immersed in their own thoughts. On the planet below the negotiations continued.

  14 - The Agreement

  The negotiations with the Hess continued for three long days. During that time the Tholtaran fleet sat unmoving just outside the line beyond which the Hess had promised to act. A single super destroyer had crept across that line a day after the fleet had arrived. A Hess weapon had burned through its shield and with breathtaking precision shaved off the outer layer of the ship's hull opening an unoccupied section of the ship to space. The super destroyer quickly retreated.


  Sorbith ignored Stricklen's repeated attempts at communications. Instead, his ship replied that Sorbith was not to be disturbed while the negotiations were underway. Frustrated, Ken spent hours pacing the bridge while keeping a nervous watch on the Tholtarans. Instead of his usual good humor he seemed moody and withdrawn.

  Concerned, Scarboro alerted the ship's psychologist. Ken was in the mess hall grabbing a quick lunch when Tasharra, tray full of food, abruptly sat down at his table. "Any word from the surface?" she asked.

  Stricklen swallowed a mouthful of spaghetti before replying, "Nope! The Hess aren't responding and Sorbith's ship has apparently been given instructions not to forward any messages until after the negotiations have been concluded."

  Tasha buttered a roll and said, "I was beginning to wonder if I'd been kept out of the loop. I've heard the Tholtarans are just sitting out there. Any idea what they're planning?"

  Stricklen had always liked Tasha. Her Kentucky accent gave her voice a quality that caused him to always listen to what she had to say and her green eyes seemed to captivate him.

  He concentrated on rolling up another forkful of spaghetti as he answered, "They've refused to answer my calls. So far, they've just been sitting out there making us nervous. After the little demonstration of Hess weaponry the Tholtarans haven't dared cross the line. As for what they're up to — beats me."

  Tasha chewed on a chunk of roll then turned to her own plate of food. "Frustrating, isn't it?"

  Stricklen set his fork down. "Frustrating! I have no idea what the hell is going on down on the surface. I'm stuck in orbit with a Tholtaran fleet ready to pounce on us, the Alliance is under attack, and the most important negotiation in Alliance history is taking place in total silence only 400 kilometers from me. I need to be doing something — anything, except just sitting here."