The Seryys Chronicles: Steel Alliance
Page 16
“Will our whole fleet be waiting?” Khai asked.
“Yes,” Ryynaall replied. “Why put our ships at risk?”
“Don’t you think that would be a little suspicious if F’Rosians jump into the system and only spot Founder ships? They know both what our ships and these ancient ships look like. That would scream ‘trap’ to me. You should have at least a handful of ships out there on the frontline with the Founder ships to at least give the impression that we have a fleet waiting to engage. Furthermore, hiding all of our ships in the dark side of Seryys is also a bad idea. You should take half of the Founder ships and a third of our fleet and hide them in the corona of our sun. In there, the electromagnetic interference should scramble the F’Rosians sensors and they will not detect them. Once the F’Roisans jump in, have them jump in behind the F’Rosian fleet to cut off their escape. We mean to destroy them, not just drive them off.”
Ryynaall’s temple twitched ever so slightly, his barely contained rage threatening to boil over. “And how do you propose we get a signal to the flotilla hiding in the sun’s corona, hm? The same scrambling effects will also disallow us to send a message to them to attack,” Ryynaall asked haughtily.
Khai let Ryynaall’s disrespectful tone roll off his back. “If we know exactly where the ships are hiding, we can send a concentrated neutrino beam back and forth and contain our radio transmission in it! We’ve done it hundreds of times to the Vyysarri during the war. Sorry, Braac. No offense.”
“None taken, Ambassador,” Braac said coolly. “We employed similar tactics during the war.”
“And what would a SCGF General know about fleet tactics?” Ryynaall asked, his anger getting the better of him. That, Brawl reckoned, was a mistake.
With the speed of sabercat and the strength of a Reaper, Khai closed the five-foot gap between him and Ryynaall, grabbed him by his finely pressed, black uniform, hefted him off the floor and pinned him to the wall where he kicked and grunted, trying break Khai’s iron grip. “Don’t mouth off to me, kid!” Khai growled. “I’ve been fighting wars, both on the ground and in space when you were still in grade school. I have more expertise in my left toe than you have in that empty head of yours. If you ever, ever disrespect me again, it will be the last thing you ever do.” Khai dropped his voice to a mere whisper. “Do you get me?”
“Yerrrs” Ryynaall managed to gurgle out.
“Good.”
“Khai,” the commander in chief called out, “let him go.”
Without another word, Khai dropped him. He landed feet first, but his knees buckled and he landed on his backside with a grunt.
“Khai’s right,” the Commander in Chief said. “You’d do well to listen to him. Plus, never underestimate the rough necks, they get just as much training in ship-to-ship combat as you do on Gorn Planet should they choose.”
“My apologies, Prime Minister,” Ryynaall said, getting to his feet, rubbing his neck and then straightening his uniform. “I will give General Khail’s recommendation serious thought.”
“No,” Prime Minister Puar said. “You will implement General Khail’s recommendation and do whatever you can to improve upon it. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” he said with a crisp salute. With a killing glance at Khai, he spun and skittered for the door. No doubt to hide in his office and lick his wounds, Khai figured.
“Have you any other suggestions, Khai?” his boss asked.
Khai sat for a moment thinking, all eyes were on him. “Maybe it would be a good idea not to outfit all of our ships with the cloaking tech.”
The older Puar brother frowned. “Why not?”
“Think about it,” Khai explained. “If you were jumping into an unknown situation and you found a small fleet of ships there to greet you, you might think that that was it for their fleet, right?”
“Mm,” Prime Minister Puar grunted in understanding. “Give them a false sense of superiority, then spring the trap.”
“Exactly,” Khai said with a grin. “Then, while their attention is on the small group of ships in front of them, have the rest sneak around the planet—under cloak—from all four directions, north, south, east and west. As they try to back up and create a little space, have the ships waiting near the sun jump in and box them in.”
“It will present a tantalizing target for sure, but it will also put that small group of ships in harm’s way.”
“If we allocate a majority of the Protector-Class Shield Boats to the forward line, overlap their shield arcs, they should be quite stout. Unfortunately, even the best-laid plans have holes. That’s war—there are casualties and you and I know that better than most.”
“Unfortunately,” Puar said sadly.
“The ships that Chuumdar provided can be the front line,” Braac chimed in.
“Thank you, Braac. I will take that into consideration. But I don’t want to unnecessarily toss away the lives of your crew needlessly,” the older Puar replied.
“Hm,” Khai hummed thoughtfully.
“What you got, Khai?” the younger Puar brother asked.
“Maybe we can use the Vyysarri fleets in another way,” Khai said to his friends.
“Explain,” Braac ordered, clearly hurt that his offer to be the front line was denied.
“You have been conducting successful hit-and-run attacks on us for a hundred years, right?”
“Yes,” Braac nodded. “We are quite efficient at it.”
“How long does a Fang-Class destroyer take to recharge its Eve’Zon Drive?” Khai queried.
“Roughly an hour,” Braac answered. “Why?”
“If we were to break up your two fleets into four groups, we could conduct a successful hit-and-run game with the F’Rosians. How many ships did Prefect Chuumdar supply?”
“Two hundred ships, two fleets of a hundred.”
“If we break them up, that leaves us with fifty ships per group. If each group piggybacked in, fought for fifteen minutes, and piggybacked out, that would add another element that would keep the F’Rosians off balance.”
“Great call!” Lieutenant Puar said. “Hit-and-runs every fifteen minutes would drive any tactician nuts!”
“Where would our staging point be?” Braac asked with no jovialness in his voice at all.
“The dark side of Seryys Six,” Khai said definitively. “It’s big enough. It’s a gas giant with nonstop, ionic storms that would shield your signatures. They would jump in, attack, jump out to Seryys One, recharge, jump back in, attack, jump back out to Seryys Six, recharge and so on.”
“Indeed,” Braac said, thumbing his chin. “That would also give each group forty-five minutes to affect repairs should they need any. However, what if they track us and pursue?”
“Yeah,” Dah agreed. “Or what if the F’Rosians decide to jump out?”
“They won’t for a while, I suspect,” Khai said. “Even the Founder ships need time to recharge after a jump. I’m hoping that they’re so determined to destroy us, or so confident that they will, that they won’t even consider running as an option until it’s too late.”
“Well, it sounds like we have a plan, gentlemen,” the Prime Minister said, standing. “Now all we can do is wait.”
Everyone in the office headed for the lift.
Brix, Khai, Puar, Brawl and Dah all entered the lift that went to the hangar.
“What’ll you be doing until the end of civilization as we know it?” Dah asked Khai.
“Spending time with Brindee,” Khai replied. “We’ve lost so much of it in the last few weeks. You?”
“Taking Bri and going to see my brother,” Dah said. “I definitely miss her and I haven’t seen Tander since his accident.”
“Accident?” Khai asked, frowning with concern. “What happened?”
“Apparently a Reaper found its way into his estate and past security,” Dah said almost as if he was having a hard time believing it. “It got to him but his security got it before it killed him, thankfully.”
“I know. But at least he’s okay,” Dah sighed thankfully. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost my brother.”
“How ’bout you, Brawl?” Khai turned his attention. “What’re your plans?”
“I reckon I’ll go check on Kay,” he answered. “I’m quite taken with her. She’s something else.”
“She could probably use the company, I’m sure,” Dah agreed.
“I reckon you’re right,” Brawl chuckled. “Glad she’s okay, though.”
“We all are,” Khai added.
“Does anyone want to know what I’ll be doing?” Brix asked.
“What will you be doing, Brix?” Khai asked with a mocking tone.
“I’ll be finishing a book,” he said stone-faced.
“Do you even know what a book is?” Puar asked, laughing.
“Yes,” Brix answered, not rising to the bait. “I have a whole list of ideas. If the world ends, I want to get this last one finished.”
“I didn’t realize you had a creative side to you, Brix,” Khai laughed. “What kind of book?”
“You never asked, but since you’re asking now, it’s a romance.”
“You’re writing a romance novel?” Dah couldn’t contain his laughter. “Oh! This is rich!
Brix wasn’t laughing or even smiling for that matter.
“You’re serious?” Khai asked.
“Yep. I only have two more chapters to complete. Besides, it’s not something I scream out to everyone. I have the reputation of being a tough guy; I’d like to keep it that way. So, keep a lid on it.”
“So what happens if the world doesn’t end and you get this book published?” Dah asked, wiping tears from his eyes. “Then everyone will know.”
“Nope,” Brix quipped with a smirk. “I plan on using an alias, Lance’Sing Lanaar.”
There was a moment of silence as they all looked at each other. Suddenly, an uncontrollable roar erupted in the small lift as everyone, including Brix, nearly died laughing.
“That’s the worst alias I’ve ever heard!” Puar shouted, tears streaming down his face.
“I know,” Brix laughed back. “I was totally kidding!”
“So…” Khai took a deep breath and wiped his face clean. “What name are you going to use?”
“Well,” he answered. “Since everyone knows me by my nickname, I thought I’d use my real name, Bryyt’Xar Bryynaal.”
Immediately, everyone stopped laughing –even Puar, who was laughing the hardest. They all knew that name well. It was the household name that had topped the bestselling charts for the last two or three years. Several of his novels had been adapted into net’vyyd dramas such as The Quarrman Gambit, The Golden Kit’Ra and the Gor’Tsu Maneuver, movies that even Khai had seen and some of Puar’s favorites.
“Shut up!” Puar shouted. “You’re the great Bryynaal? I’ve watched your movies?”
“Yeah—well, the movie adaptations anyway, which never do the books justice.”
“Yeah, I don’t have the patience to read books,” Puar said.
“Those virtual games really get in the way, don’t they?” Dah joked.
“Hey!” Puar shot back. “Say what you will, but my reflexes and hand/eye coordination are second to none!”
“Except for Khai,” Dah added.
“Except for Khai,” Puar agreed.
“And Kay,” Khai added.
“And Kay,” Puar relented.
“And Sibrex,” Brix added.
“Okay, okay,” Puar accepted. “I get it. Still, I can’t believe we know a celebrity!”
“Yep,” Brix chirped with pride.
“So if you’re doing so well, why are you still here getting shot at, chased by monsters and almost dying in a hundred different, horrible ways?” Puar asked.
“Where do you think I get the ideas?” Brix answered with a question of his own.
“Point taken,” Puar raised his hands.
“Besides,” Brix continued, “this is my job, writing’s my hobby. Here, I really make a difference.” Everyone regarded Brix for a long moment. “Plus, in this job, I get shoot things.”
“Well put,” Khai chuckled, slapping Brix on the shoulder. “We get to shoot things!”
The lift door slid open and emptied out into the cavernous hangar. From there, the Star Splitter and the Bolt Bucket could be seen resting next to each other, their dark doppelgangers reflected in the glossy, gray floor of the hangar.
Dah, Brix, Brawl and Khai made moves to their respective destinations. Individual shuttles awaited Brix and Brawl to take them wherever they wished to go.
“You not coming with us?” Khai asked, noticing that Puar made no move.
“Nah,” he said waving his hand. “I’m staying here to spend some time with my brother. Our mom’s meeting us here. Have to spend time with the family before the end of the world.”
“Well, if it happens before we see each other again, take care,” Khai said, extending his hand.
“Not going down without a fight,” Puar remarked defiantly.
The door to the lift closed and took Puar back up to the observation deck. Brawl and Brix broke formation and headed for their shuttles, while Dah and Khai continued toward their ships.
“I wonder how Sibrex is doing,” Dah murmured, half to himself.
“Oh, I am sure he’s elbow deep in some console or bulkhead,” Khai responded.
“Or he has been waiting here for you for over an hour,” a deep voice rumbled from within the Splitter.
“Sibrex!” Khai shouted, running up the ramp to embrace his closest friend; Dah was right behind him. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I am being assigned a new ship,” he replied. “The Cerys II. Prime Minister Puar requested my presence for the official commissioning.”
“How about that!” Dah said with delight. “So you got the ships up and running?”
“Indeed,” Sibrex said with a single nod. “All of them; manned and armed.”
“That’s great news,” Khai remarked. “Maybe we’ll survive this after all.”
“Indeed,” Sibrex agreed. “We were able to get some of the data off the computers, as well. They were mostly corrupted due to their age, but we now understand that the F’Rosians, for all intents and purposes, are an experiment gone wrong. The Founders—who call themselves “Humans”—were dabbling in genetic engineering and it proved to be their undoing. The F’Rosians were designed to be faster and smarter than us. They were able to build fleets of ships and wage war on their oppressors. They were able to develop their sun-killing weapon unbeknownst to the Founders and launch it. That weapons cache was the last remnant of their civilization. Some might have escaped but they most likely would have suffered the same fate as the Freedom… or worse. They left those ships for us, or someone else, to find and use against the F’Rosians.”
“And found them, we did,” Khai added.
“Indeed. We also learned that roughly a hundred thousand years ago, the Founders left their home planet, a place called “Earth.” Their sun was dying and they needed a new home before the sun swelled to the point of engulfing their planet. They sent out thousands of ships to viable stars, the fates of most of those ships were unknown, either by losing contact with them or corrupted data.
“However, three ships made it to Alpha Centauri with roughly ten thousand people. They rebuilt. They annexed several close star systems—close being a relative term, of course—almost immediately. At their zenith—roughly twenty thousand years later, they controlled multiple star systems. From the Cerys II computer, we learned that her predecessor was sent out on a charting mission to the deepest reaches of the galaxy, which was supposed to take close to twenty years. Forty years later, they finally gave up the search.
“And thusly, we were born from those ashes.”
“Incredible,” D
ah breathed. “We are from a race of people that’s over a hundred thousand years old!”
“Indeed,” Sibrex remarked. “Imagine if those other ships found their marks and settled. The possibilities of Human offshoots are endless!”
“Does the Prime Minister know about this yet?” Khai asked.
“No. I only recently uncovered this information. Most of my time was spent getting all fifty ships fully operational. It was only after that, that I had time to dig through their databases.”
“That’s incredible,” Khai whispered. “There could be hundreds of trillions of people out there just like us!”
“Or at the very least, similar to us,” Sibrex added. “Remember how different you and I are…”
“Indeed,” Khai teased. “When you’re done here, you should come spend some time with me and Brindee. I know she’d love to see you.”
“Perhaps I will,” Sibrex said, thumbing his chin. “I would like to call my family first.”
“Take your time, buddy,” Khai said with a sly grin. “Brindee and I will be busy for a while anyway, if you catch my drift…”
“Your drift?” Sibrex asked, while Dah smiled behind him.
“It was a hint, Sibrex,” Dah chimed in. “He’s saying that he and Brindee will be spending some alone time for a while, so they’re in no hurry to host you.”
“Ah!” Sibrex said, his eyebrows raised. “I understand. I shall call first. Where will you be?”
“Oh I don’t know,” Khai said. “Somewhere out there on the Splitter. Just call my com unit.”
“Will do,” Sibrex said with a bow. “If you will excuse me, I have a commission to Decline.”
“Decline?” Dah added.
“Yes,” Sibrex said, matter-of-factly. “I feel that my place is with you and Khai, wherever you may be. And tell Bri and your brother that I said ‘hello,’” Sibrex said.
“You got it!”
With that, Sibrex stormed off for the lift.
“See you soon, brother,” Dah said to Khai, giving him a hug.
“You can count on it,” Khai responded. “Be ready for my call.”