by PP Corcoran
"Status on the Turak ships?"
"No change, Captain. All three remain stationary at 100,000 kilometers off our starboard quarter. No reply to our hails and our sensors have detected no transmissions between them."
Vela ground his teeth in frustration. He was trying to raise the Turak to explain his need for an extension on their deadline but the ships remained stoically silent. Well, the Turak could go to hell. The Charlotte Dundas was staying exactly where she was until the colonists were safely back on board and that was the end of it!
In the blink of an eye, the tactical read-out in the holo cube changed.
"Status change! Fifteen new contacts... correction twenty... computer is calling them warships, Captain."
Vela’s shoulders slumped. His ship had little chance of defying three Turak warships, but twenty-three?
"Receiving a general broadcast, sir."
"Put it through the bridge speakers," said Vela as he resigned himself and the colonists to their fate.
"Turak warships, this is Admiral Analisa Chavez, Commanding Officer of First Fleet, Commonwealth Union of Planets. The SS Charlotte Dundas and the colonists on the planet below are under my protection. Any attempt to fire on either the Charlotte Dundas, the planet’s surface, or my vessels will result in my immediate and deadly retaliation. I order you to withdraw your vessels beyond the orbit of the second moon where you may remain and observe the evacuation of the planet. Failure to comply with my orders will result in the use of deadly force. You have five minutes to comply. Chavez clear."
The loud cheer echoing round the cramped bridge was nothing compared to the relief washing over Vela. For the first time today, he allowed himself a smile. "Communications. Update First Fleet on the status of our recovery operations and our projected timetable." Addressing the bridge in general, he said, "Back to work people, we still have a lot of colonists to move."
#
TDF RESOLUTION - SELENE SYSTEM - 272 LIGHT YEARS FROM EARTH
"Admiral. The Cutlass is signaling its arrival. Ambassador Schamu reports he is ready to proceed."
Analisa Chavez lifted her eyes from her tactical repeater where she was reviewing the latest from her intelligence section’s best guess as to the Turak ships’ weapons and capabilities. The section chief came to some surprising conclusions. In his estimation, the Turak were also equipped with a form of gravity drive not too dissimilar to those employed by the CUOP. The data collected by Captain Vela regarding the Turak weapon capabilities were not too far off the mark either. Each ship had two rows of missile tubes, and the covering for each launch tube was smaller than those on an equivalent CUOP heavy cruiser, which meant the missile itself had to be smaller. However, there were more missile tubes on the Turak ships so having smaller missiles may be offset by having a greater number in each salvo.
The section chief then highlighted the number of heavy grazer points. With five grazers, a Turak cruiser would outgun one of her cruisers five to three, meaning at energy weapon ranges, the Turak would have the advantage but at longer ranges, her cruisers could throw a heavier missile weight.
At this particular moment in time, it was a moot point. When the flash signal from the Hub was received at First Fleet, it had been akin to kicking over an ant nest. First Fleet forwarded the flash signal to the Combined Joint Chiefs where Admiral Jing was heard to repeatedly curse CSG Itus, the unit specifically designed to deal with exactly this kind of incident, and which was still three months from being operational.
Never a man to hesitate when time was of the essence, Jing ordered Analisa, his replacement as CO First Fleet, to assume command of the ready BatFor and prepare for immediate departure. Analisa and the navy's speedy response had all been for naught as the Commonwealth Council refused permission for the fleet’s deployment.
Clearly, they were wary of repeating their mistake in sending First Fleet rushing to the defense of Alona during the war against the Others. That move had left Earth open to the surprise attack which ended in the destruction of Fifth Fleet and the near extinction of the human race. The Council was refusing to authorize the deployment of a single BatFor until each of the member states of the Commonwealth agreed.
Even with the speedy comms drones feeding information to politicians, the Council decision delayed any action until each government considered the pros and cons of deployment. Minutes became hours while Analisa and her relief force could only cool their heels and await their political masters’ decision. When it came, a long five hours later, Analisa did not wait for Jing to terminate the communications link before she folded for Selene.
Much to her relief, she arrived to find the stalemate between the hulking freighter and the Turak still in place. With the firepower of an entire BatFor to back up her demands for the Turak to withdraw, whoever was in charge over there decided withdrawal was the better part of valor. The three warships withdrew to just beyond the second moon where they had remained, silently, for the last thirteen hours.
Analisa's sensors detected numerous launches from the center vessel of the three-ship formation. The analysts called it the flagship. The frequent launches, they figured, and Analisa agreed, were most likely communications drones, as almost immediately after launch they accelerated sharply and disappeared into fold space. Analisa wondered if they were calling for backup. She could be in for a shooting war yet. This possibility was the main reason she greeted the news of the Cutlass’ arrival with a sense of relief.
"Inform the ambassador he may continue." Unconsciously, Analisa's fingers sought out the delicate gold necklace she always wore. A gift from the widow of her late mentor and friend Stephano Ricco killed in the bloodbath of 70 Ophiuchi four years ago. The blue icon representing the Cutlass moved away from the massed ships of her BatFor on course for the three unmoving Turak cruisers. Good luck, Ambassador. For all our sakes.
#
Nicholas Schamu outwardly appeared not to have a care in the world as he sat on one of the few spare seats on the bridge of SurvFlot One’s flagship, TDF Cutlass. Only two hours ago Nicholas had been enjoying... perhaps “enjoying” was too strong a word... dinner with his sister Madeleine and her insufferable husband, Senator Mathias Grant III. A priority call summoning him to the austere offices of the Head of the Diplomatic Corps himself had come at a most opportune moment as he had about had enough of the self-inflated ego of Mathias Grant III and he was just one more bland sound bite away from telling him where he could politely shove his ideas of the Earth First movement.
The military flyer which landed on the back lawn of his sister’s house made an unsightly mess of the blustering senator’s immaculate rose bed and elicited a chortle from the normally mirthless ambassador as he watched the politician mouthing a curse and shaking a fist at the flyer as it took off. The last remaining heads of the roses were separated from their stalks and blown across the neat, now scorched, lawn.
Whatever small amount of joy Nicholas may have taken from his brother-in-law’s futile efforts to save his beloved roses was thoroughly suffocated as he opened the secure briefing package on the PAD the crew chief handed to him on boarding. Nicholas, over the years, developed a talent for speed-reading any document and picking out the salient points. In his opinion, the situation at Selene was a hair’s breath away from going from a standoff to armed conflict. As the flyer broke the sound barrier in its headlong dash for distant Geneva, Nicholas tapped a key on his armrest activating his link to the flyer’s pilot.
"Change of destination. Get me to the Geneva spaceport and don’t spare the horses."
"But Ambassador, I have direct orders from Secretary Beckett to take you to the Diplomatic Corps headquarters."
Ah, these military types, always following orders. "And I'm changing those orders. Don’t worry, I’ll sort it out with the secretary, just get me to the spaceport tout de suite."
Terminating the link, Nicholas could tell the pilot was not happy but he felt the little flyer bank and knew he was on course for his ne
w destination. A few more taps of his armrest controls and he established a link to Secretary Beckett's private number. The lined, balding head of Aaron Beckett appeared in the display mounted in the headrest in front of Nicholas. Before he could say anything the Secretary wrong footed him.
"I see you’re headed for the spaceport, Nicholas. Luckily I requisitioned a courier ship and it’s warming up on the landing pad."
Instead of replying immediately, Nicholas gave one of his rare chuckles. "I see you understand the importance of haste in the current situation, Mr. Secretary."
Now it was Aaron's turn to laugh. "I only ordered the flyer to bring you here to see if you were still willing to follow your gut instead of blindly following your superiors’ instructions. I'm glad to see, even after knowing you for thirty-odd years, you are still willing to question, if not downright ignore, those instructions."
Nicholas tipped an imaginary hat at the pick up. "I learned from the best, Mr. Secretary."
"Sycophant," laughed Aaron before his demeanor turned all business again. "Back to the matter in hand, Nicholas. The courier ship will take you to Charon Base, where Admiral Papadomas has put the Cutlass at your disposal..."
Aaron must have seen the quizzical look on Nicholas’ face.
"The admiral was quite insistent. If you’re going into a potential war zone, then you will be aboard one of his cruisers, not an unarmed courier ship. He made some reference to a Benii carrier and a shuttle craft, as I recall"
Nicholas smiled ruefully. "Yes. Christos will never let me live that one down, I fear. In this case, he may be right. Tensions appear quite high and perhaps being on board an armored warship is better than being on a defenseless shuttle craft."
"Let's hope you don't have to find out, Nicholas. However, enough of this melancholy talk. Cutlass will be at your disposal and I've already sent word to Admiral Chavez, you will be joining her as expeditiously as you can. All the latest information we have is already loaded onto your PAD, including your mission specifics."
Nicholas cocked an eyebrow at the image of the secretary in his display. “Which are?"
"In a nutshell, to make sure we don't find ourselves in another shooting war. Find out as much about these people as you can and try to establish some form of peaceful relations with them."
"From what I've seen, the Turak come across as pretty belligerent, Mr. Secretary."
Aaron frowned and the mood turned somber. "That’s what I'm afraid of, Nicholas. Do your best."
Nicholas looked into the tired eyes of his friend for a second before replying. "Yes, of course, you shall have it, Mr. Secretary."
With a nod, Aaron terminated the link. Nicholas picked up the PAD again and began going through the data line by line, hoping to glean even the smallest detail that could help him with the Turak as the flyer sped onwards.
#
"All stop."
"All stop, aye, Captain."
Captain Denise Parks spun her chair until she faced the dapper diplomat in his seat along the rear bulkhead of the Cutlass. To her surprise, he was sipping tea from a bone china cup and looked as if he was completely unperturbed by the sight of the three Turak warships hovering 500,000 kilometers dead ahead. Admiral Papadomas had given her strict instructions before departing Charon regarding the ambassador’s well-being.
Ambassador Schamu was in charge of the mission and she was to follow his orders to the letter. If the ambassador’s orders compromised the safety of the Cutlass and her crew Parks was to use her best judgment, the admiral would nonetheless take a very dim view if she were to allow said ambassador to come to any harm by reckless behavior by, say, taking an unarmed shuttle and heading out to meet three warships. If Schamu's reputation for grandiose gestures were anything to go by, those instructions may prove a hard task to complete.
"We are at the limit of what we think is the Turak effective weapons envelope, Ambassador."
Schamu put his cup down carefully on a small table by his chair and put on his best game face. "Thank you, Captain. Perhaps you would open a video and audio link to the Turak ships."
Parks gave her comms officer a nod and the link was established.
"Turak vessels. I am Ambassador Nicholas Schamu of the Commonwealth Union of Planets and I have come here at the request of the Commonwealth to hopefully establish peaceful relations between our peoples and avert any accidental misunderstandings."
There was no reply from the Turak, just stony silence.
"Comms, are we sure the link is still open?" Parks asked.
"Yes, ma'am. My board shows the link is good. The Turak are receiving both our audio and video feed."
"Let’s give it a minute, Captain, if you please," said Nicholas.
The seconds crept by and as the bridge clock ticked four minutes later, the harsh, Standard English of the Turak erupted from the bridge speakers.
"You have infringed on the territory of the Turak. You will remove yourselves from the planet or suffer the consequences."
"As you can see, we are doing as you ask and we apologize for any offense we may have caused. We did not know the Turak claimed this system. If I may make a suggestion? So we may avoid any further misunderstandings in the future, perhaps an exchange of information, a list of systems under Turak control in this quadrant of space to prevent any unintentional ingress. We would of course reciprocate and supply you with a list of systems occupied by the Commonwealth." With a small nod from Nicholas, the comms officer transmitted the pre-prepared data.
Again, the seconds seemed to stretch as Nicholas awaited the Turak's reply.
"Captain, we're receiving a data packet from the Turak... looks like navigational data."
Nicholas let out a small sigh. Progress at last. "Thank you. May I request we establish video communications as well as audio?"
The answer this time was immediate. "No. We have supplied the data you need. Ensure there are no more intrusions into Turak territory. Next time, no opportunity to retreat will be given and if you believe we have taken no action because of the presence of your warships, behold the strength of the Turak!"
The wailing of alarms filled the bridge of the Cutlass and the tactical holo cube filled with the blood-red icons of Turak ships. Ten. Twenty. Thirty. Forty. Fifty capital ships, each the size of a Bismarck class battleship filled the holo cube.
Mocking laughter reached Nicholas through the sound of the alarms. "Go now and do not return unless you want war!"
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Misunderstandings
BALAT - SYSTEM 23890 - 22 LIGHT YEARS FROM ALONA
The Alonan colony world of Balat circled the GV type star, the system’s primary, at the outer edges of the life-giving Goldilocks zone. Balat was the youngest of the three colonies the Empire rushed to establish in the face of the feared Commonwealth expansion.
From his vantage point high on the ridgeline, Major General Siloz drank in the lush green valley, the home of the courageous all-volunteer colonist force.
The valley floor looked like a maze of construction. Ranging from accommodation buildings to the bio-domes where they cultivated the colony’s seedlings before implanting them in the newly rotovated fields surrounding the colony proper.
Siloz came up to this vantage point alone on an almost weekly basis. He told his subordinates it was to check the outstation’s progress, but really, he needed time away from the never-ending hubbub that governorship of an ever-expanding colony generated.
Siloz was no fool. He knew the Empire was poorly prepared to establish colony worlds outside of the home system. It had taken a long and arduous thirty years to develop Geta, the second habitable planet of the Alonan home system, into a self-supporting entity. But times were changing.
When the merciless Others attacked the Empire, the Commonwealth fleet’s intervention alone saved Alona. At the time, the sparseness of gravity drive cruisers limited the Empire’s own naval capability, a grave circumstance that led to a dishonorable act. The Emperor was f
orced to go cap in hand to the Commonwealth for assistance. When the Commonwealth chose to conceal the existence of the Others from the Empire, they also concealed the real danger they posed to every living thing.
Things were different now. The Empire would never again be treated like a poor relation to the all-powerful Commonwealth. The Emperor aimed to make the Empire a multi-star system affair, complete with the teeth to defend what was theirs. They used technology procured by various government agencies in a race to match the Commonwealth’s technological edge. Volunteers filled the colonist ranks as they established habitats in suitable worlds, posts filled almost as quickly as worlds could be found.
Siloz well remembered the list of volunteers wishing to be Balat colonists – the list had been oversubscribed tenfold! Kathan and Opera were equally popular with the volunteers. These three colony worlds secured the immediate future of the Alonan Empire, though deep suspicion remained over the Commonwealth’s true intentions toward the empire.
In Alonan tradition, the people had put their shoulders to the wheel. Construction of naval vessels was at an all-time high and there was no shortage of willing recruits. Siloz’s heart swelled with pride as he pictured his own beaming children in their shiny new uniforms of the Imperial Navy.
A gust of cool wind brushed over him and with it, a drizzle of rain settled on his soft brown fur. Siloz looked westward beyond the towers of the atmospheric purification plants, which would one day render the small re-breather over his mouth outdated. He saw burgeoning black clouds rolling toward the valley. The fading light indicated an almighty thunderstorm was imminent. The first clap and then roll of thunder reached him through the heavy air. He sighed as he headed back to his all-terrain ground car. The rich, fertile soil would soon turn to a thick, sticky quagmire under his feet and the dirt track back to the colony would be difficult even for his ground car.
