Invardii Box Set 2

by Warwick Gibson

Cordez agreed. It was essential they find out what they were up against before they committed the bulk of their forces.

  The South Am Regent wished Cagill every success at Uruk, and signed off. The most helpful thing he could do now was let the Air Marshall get on with his job. There were less than two and a half hours to go until the unknown star ships arrived at Uruk, and Cagill would want the Alliance forces at their highest level of readiness.

  The Buccra ambassador stood at the central station on his battleship, still some hours from the rock dweller planet he was to reclaim for the Invardii. The bridge, starting at a sharp point and splitting into the three arches that connected it to the engine room some distance behind, was one large, open space.

  The ambassador’s command station stood on a raised plinth, many times his own height above the broad reaches of the floor. He could see others of his kind busy at their stations around the walls of this, his command ship.

  Sturdy hind limbs stomped along the walls, long arms flicking from controls to metered readings. More senior members of the Buccra showed some silver streaks in the short, gray hair that covered their bodies.

  It had been fortunate indeed that the enemies of the Invardii cell had decided to attack the armada at Uruk when they did. The ambassador had barely begun his journey from Antares to his home planet.

  It was equally advantageous that he had condescended to sign a treaty with the Invardii at his last meeting with them. Here was a chance to put the treaty into effect straight away. He had volunteered himself and his honor guard of warships immediately.

  The Buccra ships came out of stardrive on the edge of the Uruk system. It only took moments for them to recognize that a large number of the rock dweller warships were scattered throughout the system.

  The ambassador grunted his approval. It was sound tactics. So, the rock dwellers weren’t stupid, and that was good. His ships needed to be constantly honed by conflict, and there was no benefit in an easy victory.

  The energy readings from the rock dweller ships in the system had been analyzed, and were now sent through to the ambassador. He grunted a derisory response. Most of them were relying on shields. The Invardii were the same, and so were practically every race the Buccra had ever encountered.

  “Cowards all of them!” thundered the ambassador, and one or two of his officers looked up from their work. However it was not a command directed at them, and they hastened back to what they had been doing.

  The Buccra fought without shields, and relied solely on the power of their weapons. Hrith, the god of war, would decide who would live, and who would die, on the battlefield this day. Any attempt to forestall the inevitable was foolishness. He coughed out a Buccra expression that was almost good humored, and gave the order to attack.

  The six Buccra warships formed up as the points of a large star formation, and selected individual targets among the rock dweller ships. The arches behind the warships contained the weapons systems, and the three snouts across the arches of each warship began to power up.

  “What in the name of all hells are those things?” said Cagill, as the Buccra warships began their attack run towards the Sumerian home planet.

  “I don’t think it really matters what they are,” said Ayman Case offhandedly, on the channel between them. “It’s more important what they can do.”

  Ayman said something to one of his officers.

  “First wave of Javelins moving to intercept,” he reported to Cagill

  Cagill almost smiled to himself. His junior officer was starting to turn out the gritty one-liners that seemed to come with the right to command.

  “Eight of the motherships, plus warship cover for them, are forming up as a fall back position,” said Cagill, “but the first engagement is yours. Good luck.”

  Ayman signed off. He was sending squadrons of his best Hud pilots, and the latest version of the Javelins, up against an unknown enemy. He hoped he wasn’t sending them to their deaths.

  He had given his pilots a free hand with their tactics, and already the first line was drifting apart and picking individual targets from among the six long, arched ships that were approaching the planet.

  The strange new ships fired first, their three weapons ports firing simultaneously, and almost continuously. All along the attacking line Javelin shields overloaded and failed. The pilots rerouted more energy to the shields, but nothing they did was able to save their defenses from collapsing.

  Realizing the hopelessness of the situation, the Javelins turned desperately away, but many were caught in the next wave of pulsing fire. They were and were damaged or destroyed outright.

  A second line of Javelins had followed them in, and were now close enough to fire salvos of the super-dense slugs, and coordinate their corrosive beams at close quarters.

  A scattering of small fragments were smashed off the long, connecting arches of the enemy ships – and then the surfaces of the arches smoothed over as if the attack had never been. The energy weapons seared layers off the strange ships in smoky clouds of debris, and when the Javelins had passed by, the targeted surfaces were like new again.

  “Get the Javelins out of there,” said Ayman tersely to his comms officer, and the remaining Javelins spun quickly out of the fight. Then Ayman re-opened the sub space link to Cagill.

  “Damn things have one Stygian hells of a hull. They can repair themselves as fast as we tear them apart!” he snapped down the line.

  “They can’t keep doing that for ever,” said Cagill. “They’ve got to run out of material to repair themselves with eventually.”

  “At what cost to us!” exploded Ayman.

  Cagill let the outburst pass. It was a time for older heads with more experience, and Ayman would understand that one day.

  “What worries me more,” he said, “is the way the energy bursts are overloading the Druanii shields. If we can’t keep these new pulse weapons out, we’ve got no defenses other than the speed of the Hud pilots.”

  Ayman snorted, deeply frustrated that there was nothing the Javelins seemed able to do against this new enemy.

  “Prometheus asks for recognition,” came the formal call sign through the sub space system.

  “Granted,” said Cagill, and was put through to Finch. He listened with interest as Finch relayed what the research team had discovered in the five hours of frantic searching since they’d been told unknown star ships were approaching Uruk.

  “They have to be Buccra,” said Finch. “Celia says she thought the Buccra were just a legend, a story about a race imprisoned on their planet by the Invardii during their expansion through the core. The Rothii archives mention them briefly, but don’t give the topic much weight.

  “More usefully, we’ve been working on translating Invardii sub space messages over recent months, and the messages have been talking about a new ally. The way they describe them is the same way the archives describe the Buccra, with a mixture of loathing and fear.”

  He paused for a moment.

  “If you ask me, they’ve rounded up the worst dregs of their prisons, and turned them loose on us!”

  “It sounds like you’re close to the mark,” responded Cagill. “Have you passed this information on to Cordez?”

  “He told me to take it straight to you,” came the reply from Prometheus.

  That was all the research team had to pass on so far, and Finch signed off until they’d found something else that might be useful.

  CHAPTER 15

  ________________

  “The motherships are coming in to the attack,” reported Ayman Case, and Cagill looked up at the main screen in his command ship.

  Eight miniature suns were sailing majestically toward Uruk to engage the arched ships. The giant ships were moving in their own ponderous way. The cooling towers on the lower half blazed as they charged the internal accelerator rings. The deep blue lances that had overpowered the shields of dozens of Reaper ships were being made ready for the attack.

  The Sumeria
n warships around them ran at the strange new ships with their energy weapons blazing, but the minor breaches the warships inflicted in the outer layers of their hulls healed over within moments.

  The Buccra simply ignored the Sumerian warships around them, and picked up speed toward the motherships. Well before the giant ships were within range to deploy their energy lances, the Buccra opened fire.

  Cagill could see sizable chunks being cut out of the two leading motherships, and only their great size saved them from complete destruction. They came on as craters appeared in their smooth upper surfaces like magic.

  On their lower halves cooling towers disintegrated as they were hit by Buccra fire, but the conservatively-built motherships had multiple redundancies built into them, and continued forward.

  At last the giant ships were within attacking range, and the first deep blue lance snapped out and fastened onto one of the three-arched Buccra warships.

  The enemy ship was obscured by the cloud of debris that was scorched off its hull. It twisted and turned, seeking some way to escape. One of the arches was soon burnt completely through, and the bridge at the front of the ship soon followed. It wasn’t long before the whole ship had been turned into a gray and pitted hulk. The mothership withdrew the energy lance to recharge the accelerator ring at its core, and the inert enemy ship drifted away.

  Cagill slammed a fist into his palm. Yes! The Buccra weren’t invincible.

  Before more motherships could bring the blue lances into play, the remaining Buccra tried something new. They loosed long, heavy missiles toward the motherships. The missiles detached itself from a hollow in the side of each arch. Once free of the enemy ships the missiles picked up speed, until they smashed through the hulls of the giant ships and disappeared into the centers of them.

  There was a brief puff of luminous gases from some of the cargo bays, and then nothing. It was a while before Cagill realized what had just happened. The motherships had been destroyed from the inside out. What was left was a hollow shell – the reinforced hull – around twisted wreckage.

  “Eight motherships destroyed, unbelievable,” said Case slowly.

  A sub space call came through from Cordez, and Cagill took it immediately.

  “That’s enough,” said Cordez abruptly. “We’ve got good telemetry on the Buccra ships, we know what they can do now. Get the rest of the Alliance forces out of there.”

  “We can take them,” said Case heatedly, still part of the sub space comms circuit with Cagill. “There are so few of them, and the mothership destroyed one. I say we try a massed attack!”

  “So do I, Ayman,” said Cordez, much to the commander’s surprise, “but not now, and not here. The final showdown is coming, but we don’t want to lose ships at the rate of ten to one to make a point. In fact, it’s to our advantage to let them think we’re easy meat.

  “Bigger picture, Ayman, always take the bigger picture into account.”

  Ayman was silent for a moment, absorbing what the Regent was saying. Then his loyalty to Cordez won out over his inner conflict, and he stopped needing to prove the Javelins were the better fighting ship.

  “Understood,” he said quietly. “We’ll move out of the Uruk system at once.”

  Then he gave the order for an orderly retreat.

  Cagill retreated into his thoughts. He remembered Cordez talking about some sort of showdown with the Invardii previously, and here he was, mentioning it again.

  The Regent wanted the Alliance forces kept intact for that engagement, or so it seemed. Cagill wondered what his boss had in mind, but he knew it would do no good to ask – at least not at this stage. It was interesting though, Cordez had said the Alliance would take the battle ‘to their front door’, and that could only mean an attack on the Invardii city.

  A chill stole over him. That seemed to be an impossibility, since the city sat in the outer layers of the Antares red giant sun. Still, if it was necessary, the Alliance forces would all put their bodies on the line to get it done.

  “You don’t want to test the Valkrethi against the Buccra?” asked Cagill, once his mind was back in the moment.

  “No, not right now,” said Cordez. “This war has been about adapting to changing situations, and I don’t want to give the Invardii, or the Buccra, a chance to learn too much about the Valkrethi. It was bad enough when they adapted the internal weapons on the flagships to try and stop the Valkrethi attacking the Reaper ships. No, we have to strike once, winner takes all, when the odds are in our favor.”

  He paused.

  “One role of the dice, gentlemen, that’s our only chance.”

  The others listened in silence. There was nothing they could think of to say to a statement like that.

  “But before we roll the dice,” continued Cordez, “we need two things, and both depend on time. We need time to get more information, about . . . all sorts of things . . . and we need time to call in a few favors from friends.

  “Now, get yourselves away from Uruk, my friends, and back into more friendly territory!”

  Cagill and Case both snapped salutes, and continued the withdrawal from the Sumerian home world.

  When he had finished talking to the leaders of the Alliance forces at Uruk, and Sumerian and Human warships alike were withdrawing from the system, Cordez went to a small drawer in his office. It was protected by several different security systems, but he doubted anyone would want to steal the contents. The item within seemed of little value – unless you knew what it could do.

  He took out a small metal cube, and laid it on his desk.

  Was he ready for this? he asked himself, and mentally reviewed everything that had been leading him to make this decision.

  Yes, he decided, he was ready.

  He took a firm hold of the cube, and twisted the two halves through 90 degrees. It would be a while before there was a response to this action, but at least it was done now. The Druanii would hear the call, and they would find him wherever he was.

  The elusive creatures had said, nearly two years ago, that they weren’t able to help the Alliance any further. They had said it would arouse the suspicions of the Invardii about their existence, and helping the Alliance was too great a drain on their resources at such great distances across the galaxy.

  Despite that, Cordez had a plan to destroy the Invardii in the Spiral Arm, and he would need Druanii help to make it happen. A defeat by the Invardii in this area would shift the balance of power, and improve the fortunes of the fringe-dwelling Druanii.

  He thought deeply about his half-formed plan, little more than a cluster of ideas really, until the shadows began to lengthen, and then he left his office at the South Am center for home.

  It was late evening when the air in Cordez’ living room began to shimmer, and a round, gray, watery-looking ball formed in front of him.

  Cordez was a little surprised. He hadn’t been contacted at home before, though he had brought the cube with him from work. He had wanted to keep it with him once he’d activated it, and the Druanii had apparently tracked him to his living room.

  The shimmering ball slowly cleared, leaving a waist-high hole in reality. It looked out on a desert scene.

  “Subthree?” queried Cordez.

  “Mmmm, Subdirector,” said the largish rock in the middle of the scene. The wind was moving the leathery fronds that appeared to grow haphazardly from it, and sporadically scattered desert sand against it.

  Cagill was about to nod, then changed his message of understanding to a verbal one.

  “Are you able to translate for Druanii and Human as Subthree used to?” he continued.

  “Mmmm, I see,” said Subdirector enigmatically. “I am also Subthree. I am, perhaps, Subdirector-who-used-to-be-Subthree.”

  “Ah, promotion,” said Cordez. Subthree did not answer, and its leathery fronds twitched agitatedly.

  “All Orion are equal,” it said at last. “There is no promotion.”

  Cordez let it pass.

&nbs
p; “I know it is difficult for Druanii to help the Alliance,” he said, “but a final conflict with Invardii is coming. Druanii help may make all the difference. Can you talk to Druanii for us?”

  Subdirector was silent for a long time. Cordez hoped it was communicating his request to the reclusive Druanii.

  “There is much, mmm, risk involved,” began Subdirector hesitantly. “Even keeping this means of contact open is dangerous. Druanii left the choice with us.”

  They must have kept the technology to do so hidden away somewhere on their planet, thought Cordez. He felt a cold shiver at the thought that the means to contact the Druanii might have been lost.

  “Contact with Druanii is even more dangerous,” continued Subdirector. “Invardii are expanding out from the core, closer to fringes where Druanii live. Druanii must, mmmm, remain hidden.”

  The strange creature paused for a long time, and Cordez saw another Orion edging slowly into the picture from the side, leaving a furrow in the sand. There was much animated waving of their leathery appendages, until Subdirector’s fronds returning to hang more normally by its sides.

  “Druanii saved us from extinction, and we feel bound to help others fight the same tyranny,” it said. “Tell us what you want to say, and we will, mmm, convey it to Druanii.”

  Cordez was deeply moved that the Orion were prepared to take this risk. He was told that the communication process would take a number of days, and he accepted that. He told Subdirector what he knew about Invardii activity in the Spiral Arm. Then he outlined his plans for the destruction of the Invardii city in the red super giant star, Antares.

  When he had finished, the picture of a desert in the middle of his living room slowly dissolved.

  The possibility that the Druanii might intervene was something to feel anxious and hopeful about at the same time.

  PART FIVE: ORION AND DRUANII

  CHAPTER 16

  ________________

  It was early the next day before Cordez made contact with Prometheus, wanting to know if the research team had uncovered anything else about the Buccra. He was surprised at the frustration in Finch’s voice.