by Ryan Krauter
Elco looked around for himself, squinting not against what should have been a midday sun but all the soot that was getting in his eyes and causing them to water mercilessly. It looked like a volcano had erupted, such was the amount of debris floating in the air. It was also eerily quiet, the kind of sound-sucking quiet that was found in holo theaters that were designed to be acoustically dead. He'd already holstered his SSK, and snapped the fingers of his free hand. There was no echo; it felt like the sound ended an inch from his fingertips.
"So this is what the Primans do to those who oppose them?" Horle said quietly.
"Lately, yes," Elco replied. "That's why we came; to try and help you. I don't honestly know if we did any good or made it worse for our efforts."
"I'm glad you were here," Horle said, fixing Elco with a steely-eyed glare. "It's nice to know we have a few friends at least."
Elco was about to reply when he heard the unmistakable whine of lifting jets and thrumming antigrav fields.
"Yours?" Horle said hopefully.
"Sounds like it," Elco said hopefully, "but Priman tech is a lot like ours and I've never heard one of their transports. It wouldn't hurt to take up defensive positions."
"For what it's worth, eh?" Horle said grimly. "Alright everyone!" he began. "Defensive perimeter, right on this spot!" Everyone gathered back towards their leader. They formed a ring immediately around the burned-out transport he'd been standing by, as well as another one a little bit further out in order to give them two layers of defense. The collection of wounded fighters wouldn't do much against a coordinated Priman assault, but Elco admired their inability to give up. He resumed his job of bracing Horle, drew his SSK and leveled it at what passed for the main hangar doors, and waited.
The noise outside died down to almost nothing, and was followed by the new sounds of boots crunching on the shattered glass, broken walls, and other debris littering the ground outside.
Finally, Elco heard a voice.
"Over here!" it called excitedly. Elco was fairly certain hew knew that woman's voice, but didn't dare get his hopes up to far.
There was a commotion and then disconcerting quiet as many pairs of boots gathered on the other side of the shattered and buckled hangar doors.
"Captain Elco!" called the voice again. "It's Lieutenant Commander Mastruk. We've tracked your comm device to this location but there's too much interference to get a signal through. Friendlies, coming through the crew door. Don't shoot."
Horle's eyes darted to Elco and were rewarded with a hesitant but growing smile. Elco was just lowering his sidearm when Mastruk's head, covered in a combat helmet and eyes shielded behind her datalink-enabled shooting glasses, poked through the door.
"Please don't shoot me, Captain," she requested. "My day's been way too hard to end it like that."
Elco grinned now, relief washing over him as he finally let himself accept the idea that he and the others would live.
"I promise to not shoot you, Sarria," Elco said with confidence. He holstered his gun and motioned for the rest of the Lemurians to do the same, which happened quickly.
Mastruk wrenched on the door to get it open; it stayed in that position, the frame and hinges too out of square to let it swing freely ever again. After she'd entered, she was followed by a half dozen Avenger crewmembers and an equal number of medics.
"How did it go up there?" Elco asked cautiously as Horle listened.
"We beat them, Captain," she said with a tired but beautiful grin. "Avenger took her share of hits, but Majestic and Cobalt engaged the bulk of the Priman fleet and are a lot worse off. They're still airtight, but I don't know much more right now. There were twelve Priman cruisers that entered the system; two left under their own power, the rest were destroyed and I believe two are in the process of being boarded and captured."
"Excellent," Elco said proudly. He'd mourn the deaths later, at an appropriate time. Right now, he would just enjoy the feeling of a Confed victory, no matter how small.
"What about our destroyer force?" asked Horle, a slight hesitation the only outward sigh of worry.
Mastruk's smile disappeared as she grew somber. "They fought very bravely, General," she began, eyes darting back and forth between Horle and her captain. She wondered if Elco would want her to debrief him first, but he gave no indication for her to stop so she assumed it was alright to tell him everything.
"I'm sorry; they were all destroyed." She only paused for a second, wanting to tell him everything and get this horrible task off her shoulders. "They took on two Priman cruisers. They had to do it to protect the transports, which had been ordered to heave-to by the Primans. They were sitting targets there, and the Primans were going to take them out. Captain Renner and the destroyers fought them off, but in the end Captain Renner placed his ship in the line of several incoming torpedoes and took the hits himself. They saved the transports; not a single one was destroyed after Captain Renner's forces engaged and they're all on their way to the staging location now."
General Horle took the news quietly, only nodding as it all sank in. "Thank you for your honesty and kind words," he managed to say, though Sarria could tell it was already threatening to tear him up. "What now, might I ask?"
"Avenger is in orbit above the city trying to coordinate everything," Mastruk answered to both the senior officers. "Searching for whoever's in charge now, trying to link up with the military, and basically acting as the hub of operations for everything that's happening. Captain Montari was on his way to Avenger to set up shop there for a while since Majestic has no means of communication. We're supposed to bring you back upstairs and get you checked over and debriefed." She looked at the uncomfortably small number of Horle's remaining troops. "We have enough room in the transports for everyone," she added.
"Then let's go," Elco answered. He gestured to Horle and then the human-sized door Mastruk had entered through, and Horle agreed.
"Yes, let's," Horle replied.
Chapter Nine
Loren stood completely motionless, eyes straight ahead but looking at nothing in particular through the huge viewports in the aft wall of the conference room behind C3. It was one of the best views on the ship; almost the tallest point, with a view of the top of the Aft Quarter on the main gun deck and the engines, plus two main laser batteries and a handful of point defense turrets.
His gaze swept the armor plating of his ship, damaged once again in battle with the Primans. He could see all the individual sections of armor that were fused together to make the larger plates now; before the war, Confed ships were coated with a metallic layer that marginally helped reduce their signature to Enkarran sensors. But Confed wasn't fighting the Enkarrans anymore; the Primans had some of the best sensors in the known galaxy, and eventually the ineffective coatings were no longer applied and in fact removed when ships came to the yards, saving tons of mass in the process.
He heard a weary sigh to his left and glanced over at Captain Montari. Majestic's captain was seated at the starboard conference table where he'd made a temporary home while trying to coordinate the force of three damaged ships under his command. The briefing room was quite large since it took up the width of the command tower; split in the middle by a smaller version of the solid 3D holo generator found on the bridge and C3, there were conference tables with seating for nine on each side of the bridge. Loren hadn't even really considered there to be two; Captain Elco always held briefings at the port side table, and he'd never used the starboard one in all his time aboard.
"You look like I feel, Commander Stone," Captain Montari said with a weak grin, then chuckled softly.
"That bad, huh?' Loren replied.
Montari only nodded, but indicated a chair across from himself at the table for Loren to occupy.
Loren obliged and headed over, a cup of rapidly cooling stim-caf in his hand. Some people were put off guard by Captain Montari's often stunted conversations and compact speech, but Trin were like that. As a people who used smell and
taste more than verbal communication, they often didn't waste extra syllables on the spoken word. Montari did his best to elaborate in order to not seem standoffish, but Loren didn't mind. As long as the man liked killing Primans, he was ok by Loren's standards.
Loren sat down and looked at the pile of work in front of Majestic's captain. There were three separate piles of data pads, some disposable hardcopy printouts, the remains of a cold ration supper, and even a few handwritten notes scribbled on whatever scraps of material must have been handy at the time they were pressed into service.
"How are Majestic and Cobalt doing?" Loren asked.
The Trin pushed himself back into the seat and rocked back away from the table. "Majestic is rough but serviceable," he began. "Cobalt is in better shape but her drives are wreckage."
Loren knew a little more than that from his own time surveying the reports that came streaming in to Avenger; he'd just wanted to show concern to Montari, not really expecting much of an answer. Majestic had been pounded hard; many of her offensive weapons were destroyed, her shield generators were overloaded and burned out, and much of her armor was compromised. The good news was that the heavy armor had saved a good portion of her crew and allowed the big ship to fight a force that was numerically very superior to her. The bad news was that the ship was looking at serious yard time and a supply chain that was starting to run low on parts for the older ships that were no longer in production. It was quite possible the ship would end up being scrapped. The Confed navy leadership was supposedly in a heated debate about building more of the Starshaker ships to old specs versus building a modern updated version, but like all bureaucracies the end result was a lack of either new production battleships and their support infrastructures or a serious effort at beefing up the supply chain for the older ships. Loren knew Captain Montari was probably in for a fight to keep his ship from heading to the breaker to be scavenged for spares.
Cobalt hadn't done much better. She'd suffered severe damage as well, but many of her damaged components were modular and designed to be easily removed and replaced. Her engines, though, were through. She'd been towed into planetary orbit by Majestic, and would be stuck there until a specialized tug could arrive. Coupled to the rear of Cobalt, the tug was basically a large engine unit, comprised of both sublight and hyperdrive engines. It would get the damaged ship wherever she needed to go.
"How is Avenger?" Montari asked.
"Well enough," Loren replied. "We've taken a beating, as we usually do, but we've had worse." He tried to keep it short to accommodate the Trin. "We'll get back in the fight after some repairs."
Captain Montari nodded in approval, satisfied that at least one of the Confederation ships in the system wasn't just floating wreckage.
A chime sounded and Loren looked up at the main display. It stretched all the way across the forward bulkhead, a space shared with the holo generator's field and a myriad of screens and data feeds. A window opened on each side of the display, meant to be visible to either conference table. The face of the communications officer appeared.
"Call from Lieutenant Commander Mastruk, Commander Stone," the woman said.
"Put it through, Ensign," Loren replied, swiveling his chair to face the screen.
The feed changed to show Sarria Mastruk, still wearing body armor and web gear and holding her HMR-12 Hammer rifle while standing in the personnel section of a Freedom class transport. She'd admitted a deep and abiding love for the rifle's design and that she often made sure her name was on the roster for ground ops just so she could get a chance to carry and perhaps fire one.
"Didn't get to use your rifle, I see," Loren began with a guarded smile. He'd already seen the reports that there were no Priman forces on the planet; her mission had been more one of rescue than combat.
"Maybe next time," she said with a sigh. "I did find something else I was looking for, though." With a grin, she moved from her space in front of the camera and let someone else step into view. For a moment, Loren saw the scene on the transport, a dozen Drisk wearing battered, torn and dusty uniforms of the Lemurian military. Then the newcomer was on screen.
"Captain!" Loren said with a genuine smile. Captain Montari perked up and turned his head to watch the display as well.
"It's good to see you, Captain Elco," Montari added.
"It's good to be seen," Elco replied. "Sarria informed me of the situation; you chased off twelve Priman ships?" Elco's expression was one of apprising respect.
"We paid a price," Captain Montari admitted, "but only two survived. I wish we could do that every time we engaged them."
"I'll take anything I can get at this point," Elco said humorlessly. "We have General Horle and some of his staff aboard. We'll bring them up and have Doctor Elrad check them over. Has any organized government announced itself yet?"
Loren looked at a datapad he was holding, which showed the latest intel. "Apparently we have two different parties claiming they're in charge now," Loren replied, a look of resignation on his face. "Without knowing more about their politics or roles of succession, I couldn't say whose claim is better. As long as they want to keep evacuating, it's fine by me."
"Perhaps the general can help sort it out," Elco thought out loud, eyes drifting off towards the commander of Lemurian forces a few seats away. "I'll let him know and get him started on thinking about that. In the meantime, we'll be there soon." With a nod showing a little more cheer than a minute earlier, Elco cut the connection.
Captain Elco made his way over to General Horle, who was surrounded by three of his staff. He was trying his best to get things organized, using the data console behind the cockpit as a workstation. Elco waited for a lull in the conversation before he interjected.
"Could I have a minute, General?" Elco asked.
"You can have as much as you want, Captain," Horle replied. He dismissed the other officers, giving himself and Elco a measure of privacy.
"We've received communication from two different parties on the surface claiming succession of your government," Elco began, knowing the general would rather just have the truth and not sugar-coated spin when it came to intel. "We're hoping you can help sort it out when we get back aboard. I'll make a stateroom available for as long as you'd like to remain with us."
"Thank you, Captain," Horle replied, standing up with some effort. He'd had a combat medic treat his wounds, but he was only stabilized, not healed, and grimaced with the effort. "For everything, I mean. I probably won't stay long; I'm going to have to head down there and show everyone that just because the capitol was destroyed doesn't mean our planet is going to devolve into anarchy. We still need to evacuate; I doubt the Primans will let this slide for long, if for no other reason than to make a statement to anyone else who tries to fight back."
"Believe me," Elco reassured him, "I'm going to put in another request for any lift that we can spare."
"I know you will," Horle replied," and that's why I want you to have this." Horle held out his hand, a data chip in his palm. It looked so innocent, devoid of intent. It was just a little data chip, common to the entire galaxy, its coating worn and chipped from use, but somehow Elco knew it contained something disproportionate to its innocuous appearance.
"Your music collection?" Elco joked with a smirk.
"Almost as valuable," Horle countered gravely. He held out his hand farther and gestured to Elco to take it, which the captain did. "This is our development work on the sensor penetrating technology we've been working on. You've probably heard what it's all about; reconfigurable circuits that can learn and adapt, as close to artificial intelligence as galactic conventions allow. The prototypes could penetrate and neutralize Priman jamming and countermeasures. Basically, this levels the playing field. You get your full sensor use back, and they don't get to cheat by scrambling electronic emissions any more."
Elco looked at it reverently. Confed used Lemurian technology in a number of its weapons systems already, but this tech was new and nobody had
dared to plan on using it in case it never turned out.
"And you're giving this to us?" Elco said slowly, not wanting to misinterpret the gesture.
"Yes," Horle replied simply. "You've helped save our planet, got dragged into something that was none of your business, and still stepped up and gave us everything you could. The least I can do is return the gesture with something of value. And let's be honest; if my planet is evacuating, I don't know how long it will take for us to continue development on this technology. I do ask that when you turn it over, it's with the understanding that when we can support it again you get us involved with supply, just like all the other systems we license to you. But for now, I'm not worried about that. It just needs to be put to use, and I'll trust that things work out on the back end."
Elco just nodded, the simple gesture all that General Horle would want. He reverently placed the chip in a breast pocket, then extended his hand for the general to shake, which he did.
"I'll make sure this is put to good use, and that you get involved when you're ready," Elco reassured him.
"Then go kill some Primans," Horle replied.
Captain Elco was back where he belonged: on the bridge of Avenger. He looked around slowly, taking it all in, for he realized one day he'd have to move on. The realization had never really sunk in before, but after the Lemurian battle and Loren's able handling of the ship he'd come to acknowledge that other people were in fact capable of caring for the vessel. Well, to be honest, he admitted that he believed Loren was capable of it; he wasn't sure about leaving Avenger in anybody else's hands, but if he received orders to move on, he'd be damn sure to do everything he could to get Loren the job.
