Everything here is new, replaced after the armada destroyed Prometheus as the Invardii ships were leaving the Solar System. That saddens me. Historians learn about their subjects from the many personal items that would have been scattered about the old base. Hopefully the traditions and social etiquette of the old base has survived the transition to the new.
Above everything else, I find I am accepted here. People greet me everywhere I go, and the always inquisitive Mersa would have my life support in pieces, I am sure, if they could not see I am dependent on it. I had expected a return of my common name, ‘Herodotus the cripple’ – which I do not mind – but this has not been the case.
Here I am ‘Herod the Great’, which as you can imagine surprised me. What had I ever done to be called ‘the Great’? Sallyanne, the social historian for alien cultures, eventually explained to me that the reference was to Herod Antipas, the governor of the Roman province in the time of Jesus Christ.
That is very old history indeed, and factually incorrect. Herod the Great was Herod Antipas’ father, but I am used to such inaccuracies in everyday conversation. But it does illustrate something about the inhabitants of Prometheus. They are an intelligent bunch, and their minds are full of the most extraordinary information.
Herod Antipas demanded miracles from Christ, and the people here imagine I am demanding a miracle from them as I write their efforts into history.
On reflection I have to agree, although they are demanding a miracle from themselves. It will be a miracle indeed if they can find way to defeat such a vastly superior enemy.
PART FOUR: THE INVARDII ALLY
CHAPTER 13
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The Buccra ambassador stepped out of the heavily-armored shuttle that had brought him to Kalken’s flagship. The shuttle alone, bristling with armaments, was capable of starting a small war. The ambassador looked around the docking bay with disdain. The immense size and power of an Invardii flagship did not impress him.
The ambassador was surrounded by a million points of muted light, points that shifted and stretched as he moved. His personal shield could withstand anything short of a nuclear attack.
An honor guard of Invardii in their active phase formed up, and moved smartly with him to the bridge. He walked onto the bridge and snorted his displeasure, his bearing showing his contempt for this inferior fighting ship.
His ultimate weapon, and he knew it, was the sub space trace that gave his exact location at all times. If he was harmed in any way, the Buccra warship that lay astern of Kalken’s flagship would empty its entire armory into the last spot he had occupied.
Kalken welcomed the ambassador onto the bridge. She had dealt with the Buccra before, but that didn’t make the meeting any less unpleasant. This one was definitely male, the array of spines behind the head taller, and darker purple, than for the females. The poisonous spines of the female, though, did a lot more damage.
The ambassador dropped onto his long front limbs. This was an aggressive fighting stance, his weight able to be taken on any of his four limbs, the other three all capable of dismembering anything close enough to touch.
With his shorter rear limbs and sloping back, the ambassador looked like some of the powerfully-built primates on planets the Invardii had over-run, but that would be a foolish assumption to make. The Buccra were deadly, the only species to fight the Invardii to a standstill. They were only beaten, in the end, by sheer force of numbers.
Why do we tolerate these killers, thought Kalken, even the limited population of them we allow. Then – for a brief moment – she realized the answer. The Buccra were so much like the Invardii. Their attitude to everything was so, so . . . extreme. They were loathed and secretly admired at the same time. To destroy them utterly would be like killing family.
Then the insight was gone. To the Invardii such thoughts had no survival or strategic value, and so they were immediately discarded. There was no area of study remotely like psychology among her species.
The city mind had decreed that Kalken go to the Plenium Council of all city minds with a request to unleash the Buccra on the rock dwellers, the planet scum with their increasingly dangerous Dark Ships. The Plenium Council had at first refused the request. Then the rock dwellers had unleashed a new weapon against the Reaper ships at the ice planet, and destroyed a number of flagships, and the council had agreed.
Now it had fallen to Kalken, as she knew it would, to get the Buccra to pledge allegiance to Kalken’s cell in its fight against the rock dwellers. To pledge their help cementing the Invardii hold on the new area it now claimed as its own.
In principle it was the simplest of transactions. If the Buccra warships did not cooperate fully, the vast Invardii space stations in their home system would kill every living thing on the Buccra prison planet. If the Buccra were needed again, new stock could be bred from cell tissues frozen for that purpose, and the results could be indoctrinated with the same science and culture that made the Buccra what they were.
But nothing with the Buccra was easy. At any sign of such ‘pressure’, the ambassador flew into paroxysms of rage. Negotiating a workable deal would take many visits, and all to deliver an unreliable ally. Kalken made a mental equivalent to shaking her head. How had things come to this? Still, she better get on with it. Procrastinating was a sin in the eyes of the Invardii.
While Kalken was making a deal with the devil, Prometheus was closing in on the Invardii city she was trying to protect.
Finch activated the panel on the 3D animator, and brought up the giant city in the outer layers of the red super giant, Antares. The Prometheus departmental heads crowded in to get a better look, as the image floated above the table. There were gasps, and sharp intakes of breath. One or two groans ended the almost universal expressions of dismay.
The city was huge. It was one vast superstructure, built like a sound shell, with the back of the shell toward the heart of the super giant sun. The immense arms that ringed the sound shell were clearly defensive stations, heavily armored and laden with weaponry. But worst of all, the number of Reaper ships on patrol far exceeded the numbers the Alliance had thought were left.
Fortunately, only two flagships were visible. There was another one somewhere – intel was sure of that – and possibly one more, one that had been badly damaged in the action at Aqua Regis by the Valkrethi. There was no sign of it around the huge city at the moment.
“Excellent work, Finch,” said Cordez. He had made a special effort to be at Prometheus in person for this.
Finch felt like demurring at the Regent’s praise, but it would have done no good to protest that it was due to the skills of those that worked for him. Cordez was in the habit of congratulating whoever was in charge, and expected his heartfelt thanks to work its way down to every person who ever worked on the project. Finch would fulfill that duty over the coming days.
“It was one hell of a job getting clean copy of a city inside a sun,” said Finch briefly. “We were lucky to get a few days when coronal activity outside the surface layers all but ceased.”
Cordez motioned with his hand, and Finch turned the animator off.
“You’ll get a chance to look at the details over the coming days,” said Cordez, “and then you can put forward ideas on how we might destroy the city. But right now we’ve got a more immediate problem.”
The heads of department settled back into their seats, and refocused their attention.
“The Sumerians want to clear away the armada from around their home planet,” continued Cordez. “They’ve been more than patient while we destroyed the Invardii shipyards, and I have to admit we’ve got the shipyards under control now.
“The Sumerians haven’t been idle in that time, either. When we last had a meeting here they’d built up a fleet of 30 giant motherships – quite an achievement while they were relocating a third of their population. It was only possible with the help of the K'Sarth traders, and the riches on the seabed of Neerok.”
“They can now field 38 motherships, and that should be more than enough to deal with the armada around Uruk, especially with the remaining flagships now stationed at Antares to protect the Invardii city.”
“What about the rest of the Sumerian deep space navy?” said Ursul Vangretti, head of communications.
Beside her Cantoselli nodded her agreement. “The Sumerians had less than 100 warships left after the battle for Earth, yes?” she added.
“That’s about right,” said Cordez, “and they haven’t improved on that. The warships have been kept as a presence among their colonies to bolster morale, but their real hopes have been with the motherships. I think they see that the Prometheus Javelins are the best choice for a destroyer-class warship, increasingly so as they’ve come to trust us.”
And we’ve got ParapSanni to thank for that, thought Finch to himself. The Sumerians are changing their ways, and thank God they are. They’re becoming right good neighbors.
“Our part in the operation to retake Uruk,” continued Cordez, “would be to provide Javelins in a supporting role. We will also send a quad of Valkrethi as back up, but I don’t expect the Sumerians to have too much trouble with this one.”
There were numerous nods around the table. Cordez’ analysis of the situation made sense.
Finch wondered if ParapSanni would shift his government back to Uruk from the mineral moon Rok’H’Rok once the armada at Uruk was defeated. He thought about it for a moment. Having just seen the size and power of the Invardii city at Antares, he wouldn’t assume anything was certain about the attempt to retake Uruk.
Kalken hung in the middle of the command center of the flagship, as befitted her seniority. Hundreds of Invardii were at work around the curved walls, making a scattered coating of orange fire. Kalken had come to the command center from another meeting with the Buccra delegation.
It had been another difficult time, and one of too many meetings with the delegation it seemed to her. She was very, very pleased that the most unpleasant part of her day was now over. She was particularly glad to see the back of the Buccra ambassador. He had, as always, been impossible to deal with.
His ‘non-negotiable’ condition for the latest meeting had been an honor guard of five fully-armed Buccra warships. In order to keep some semblance of control over him, the flagships at the Buccra prison planet had been doubled, the powerful flagships coming from Invardii cells nearby. Sometimes Kalken wished the Buccra would give the Invardii an excuse to destroy the prison planet, and the last of this most aggravating of breeds.
Part of her annoyance was caused by the state of emergency that now prevailed in her Invardii cell. The rock dwellers had destroyed most of the shipyards that were needed to make more Reaper ships, and the state of emergency had postponed her long-anticipated reproduction of herself.
She now had well in excess of the resource credits required to start a new life, and she had carefully cloned her brain matrix and stored it as the template on which the new life would be seeded. When would she have an offspring of her own to favor? She desperately needed an offspring to hasten up the chain of command in a prominent flagship like this.
Kalken was forced to reset her internal chemistry, which had been unacceptably disturbed by her envious thoughts.
After only four visits – something of a diplomatic record – the Buccra had pledged their allegiance to Kalken’s cell in the fight against the rock dwellers. Their help was sorely needed, as the presumptuous planet scum seemed to have ever more of the dangerous Dark Ships. With the Buccra now in play, the tide was about to turn against the upstart enemies of her cell. The thought gave her a strong feeling of satisfaction.
Kalken watched the departing warships on an external feed connected to her optics. The Buccra ships did have a certain clean line to them, she had to admit. They were something of a contrast to the ornately fashioned Invardii Reaper ships, or the long, boxlike flagships.
Three streamlined arches separated the bridge and engine room of each ship, making them more open space than enclosed living area. They looked like they had a purpose, like they were going somewhere for a reason. And that reason was death, death to anyone or anything that stood in the way of the grand Buccra scheme for domination of the galaxy, and the destruction of every life-form but their own.
They weren’t like the Invardii, thought Kalken proudly, who had been born to rule the galaxy by virtue of their innate superiority. When the first races had come to awareness on the first planets, it had been the Invardii who had been born leaders of all. Why, any just-born Invardii knew that, it was so obvious.
Her plasma field became a darker orange as her emotional state changed, and then brightened again. Everyone knew that basic fact – except for these rock dwellers with their accursed Dark Ships!
They didn’t understand that the Invardii were born, by the galaxy and for the galaxy, to lead all others. This was the natural order of things. It was certain proof of the rock dweller’s insanity that they had not been born with instinctive knowledge of this great truth.
Kalken turned back to her work with a vengeance. It was clearer now than it had ever been, the rock dwellers must be destroyed!
CHAPTER 14
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It had been a long few weeks of waiting, but the news the armada had been driven from Uruk galvanized the population of Earth like nothing else. It was more proof of the growing power of the Alliance, and the first news of a victory after the survival of Earth.
The news arrived in the middle of a rare week of relaxation for Manoba and Asura. The two Regents had spent most of it at Cordez’ hideaway in the hills, coming in to work only when they had to.
Celebrations started right across the South Am block, and the two Regents joined in at the new South Am headquarters. All Earth was celebrating, it seemed, and ParapSanni had told Cordez the sense of achievement was as strong across the Sumerian worlds. It would be the same for the other planets in the Alliance.
Now Manoba and Asura stood in the middle of the largest room at the South Am center, surrounded by ecstatic staff and well-wishers. Cordez realized the celebrations were likely to go on for hours. He made his apologies as unobtrusively as he could while guiding Asura through the throng. A small vertical lift craft took them back to the quiet, forested surrounds of his country home.
Back in his country retreat a quiet evening had just begun – with a magnificent sunset to uplift them both – when he was notified that a ‘First Alert’ message had arrived at his office. He had it relayed to his current location, and read it at the terminal in his small home office.
Cordez sat silently for a moment, and then alerted one of his pilots to get his private lift craft ready again.
It was a grim Manoba who broke the news to Asura.
“Navs intel has placed six completely unknown space craft five to six hours from Uruk. From the line of flight it seems likely they’ve come from Antares. At least we were able to spot these intruders early.
“It’s too much of a coincidence that they left the Invardii city not long after the Alliance drove the Invardii away from Uruk. I doubt they’re coming to surrender all claims to an Invardii cell in the Spiral Arm.
“Judging from the strange energy readings the long-range sensors are getting off the incoming ships, they’re either a new type of flagship, or they’re an Invardii ally.
“If we discard the new type of flagship idea, we’re left with an option I’ve been worried about for some time – an alliance between the Invardii and another race.
“The reason it worries me, dear one,” he said softly, “is that they’ve left it until the situation is turning against them. That means they are forming an alliance of last resort, one they would not otherwise have done.”
He took both her hands.
“What sort of race would disturb the Invardii so much they would only form
an alliance with them in their time of greatest need?”
A chill descended on the room. Asura completely trusted her husband’s instincts on matters to do with the defense of Earth. If what he said was true, the Alliance was about to face exceedingly dark times once again.
She attempted a smile, but had to start again. She was better on the second try.
“Look how much you’ve achieved, in such a short time,” she said. “Look at the many hurdles like this you’ve already overcome.”
It was Manoba’s turn to force a smile. He stepped forward and held her close, soaking up the energy – and belief that all things were possible – that he knew he would need over the coming days.
Cagill already knew about the strange ships when Cordez put a call through to the Air Marshall on the sub space system.
“So we don’t know what we’re up against,” said Cagill dryly, “but its probably got superior weaponry. We don’t know what they want, except it’s probably to destroy us. And there’s only six of them, which is what they think it will take to beat close to 400 Alliance ships, including 38 motherships and a squadron of Valkrethi.”
“Something like that,” said Cordez lightly, appreciating Cagill’s humor. He knew the Air Marshall would already be preparing the Alliance forces for anything that might be thrown at it.
“No heroics,” said Cordez, looking straight into the lens, and seeing Cagill stand straighter at the other end of the connection.
“If it turns out badly for us, I want the Javelins out of there. I’ve already told ParapSanni the same thing about the Sumerian warships and motherships, and he agrees with me.”
Cagill nodded. “We’ve set up limited forces around Uruk itself,” he said. “The rest of our forces are scattered around the system. If there are only six of these star ships, we don’t want to be getting in each other’s way when we’re trying to engage them. Those further out can be at Uruk in minutes.”
Invardii Box Set 2 Page 46
