Invardii Box Set 2

by Warwick Gibson

  “Is the Alliance going to keep falling back before the Buccra warships?” said the Prometheus head. “We learned a lot from the encounter at Uruk, even though we had to give up the planet. Surely there’s something we can do to beat them.

  “Hell’s teeth, we haven’t even tried the Valkrethi against the Buccra yet!”

  Finch wasn’t part of the military forces, but this particular point seemed to have frustrated him.

  Like any good leader, Cordez let a member of his team say his or her piece. Finch would be able to think things through more logically when he had let out his feelings about the situation.

  “I wish I could tell you more about the direction we’re headed,” said Cordez quietly, “but I’m bound by promises I’ve made, and there are a dozen options that just aren’t making sense yet. I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve got something more definite.”

  Finch nodded.

  Cordez was, however, able to pass on his discussion with Subdirector. Finch was one of the handful of people who knew about the existence of the Druanii.

  “Nothing back from our elusive friends yet,” said Cordez.

  “No response to my request for help, and that’s the thing that’s worrying me the most right now. One way or another, the Druanii will determine what we do next, and it’s been nearly three weeks since I contacted them with the cube they gave you at the start of all this.”

  Finch nodded again.

  “What’s the situation with the Buccra fleet?” he inquired.

  “Over a hundred warships have now arrived at Uruk,” said Cordez, “and there’s no sign of the Reaper ships returning to the planet.

  “I’ll bet you anything you like that the Invardii forces are guarding the city at Antares. That’s their place of real power, and I think they will concentrate their forces there.

  “Individual Buccra warships have been seen in a number of Alliance systems. They haven’t done any damage, and it seems like they’re more interested in gathering information than anything else.”

  Cordez laughed caustically. “I don’t think there’s any love lost between the Buccra and the Invardii,” he said grimly. “The Invardii only turned to their new ‘allies’ for help when they became desperate, and we don’t know what sort of deal that entailed.

  “The Buccra will want to do their own intelligence gathering, and they’ll be scouting out our systems, and our defenses, for themselves.”

  Frustrating as it was, Cordez knew the Alliance would have to keep falling back in front of the Buccra warships for the time being.

  What that gained the Alliance was time, but it didn’t give them forever. Fortunately for Cordez, the two critical events he was waiting for turned up in rapid succession.

  It was another late evening when the air in Cordez’ living room began to shimmer, and a round, gray, watery-looking ball formed in front of him. He wished Asura was there to see it. She had often talked about her interest in the Orion, and the way they communicated with Finch and Cordez.

  The shimmering ball slowly cleared, leaving a picture of a desert scene, with a large rock in the foreground.

  “Welcome, Subdirector,” said Cordez, hazarding a guess that the rock was indeed his old ally Subthree, now promoted to new status. For one of the few times in his life, Cordez was nervous. Subdirector probably had an answer for him. Feeling nervous was not something he was used to, and he didn’t like the way it drained his strength, and made his palms moist.

  “We have been talking to Druanii,” began the Orion representative. “Many points have needed, mm, clarification. Process has taken much time.”

  That, I know! thought Cordez brusquely to himself. He felt a little frustration bubbling to the surface, and quickly controlled himself again.

  “Unfortunately Druanii cannot help you,” said Subdirector. “This is painful for us to say, mmmm, and I think for Druanii also, but Druanii must not bring down upon themselves their own destruction.”

  Cordez had been expecting this answer. If the Druanii threw their weight behind a desperate attempt to win freedom for the races in the Spiral Arm, they might simply go down fighting alongside the Alliance.

  Cordez had activated an alarm as soon as the gray ball had started to form in his living room, and Celia’s tired face now appeared on the screen he had set up on the table. He didn’t know when she’d last slept, or when any of her team had.

  Fedic Vits had brought the Invardii-Druanii treaties to Cordez personally, arriving unannounced at his South Am headquarters a week ago. He was still recovering from his ordeal in Cordez’ guest rooms. Cordez had recognized the importance of the treaties at once, and sent the data files to Prometheus.

  Celia and her team had been trying to put the treaties in order of likely usefulness to the Alliance ever since. They had been working on the project day and night.

  “What have you got?” said Cordez, turning his head away from Subdirector to do so.

  “Most of the treaties are redundancies,” she said, “relying on previous agreements or stipulating that the same conditions need to apply. We didn’t think you’d want to go round in circles like that, so we concentrated on stand-alone situations the Alliance might be able to use.

  “We’ve been working on a list, in order of most likely usefulness, and all I can suggest at this stage is I send you the top twenty treaties. The problem is that the more significant treaties were established earlier in the history of the two races, so most of those at the top of the list are quite ancient.”

  “I think that’s going to be a plus,” said Cordez, pleased with what the research team had managed to accomplish. “As long as no later treaties have null and voided any of the earlier ones.”

  “No, definitely not,” said Celia. “We were very particular about that. The whole of our operations room is covered in timelines and flow charts, with retroactive loops that invalidated more than half the treaties. But these ones are clean. They are still in force.”

  “I can’t say how much this means to all of us,” said Cordez, touched by the way the research team had run themselves into the ground to get him this information. “I think it will turn out to be the best ammunition we’ve got against the Invardii.”

  “It’s what we’re here for,” said Celia, with a tired smile. Another figure joined her on the screen in front of Cordez, a tall male figure that he remembered seeing at Prometheus once or twice. Roberto, wasn’t it?

  “She’s a princess, the best leader we could ever hope for,” said Roberto. He put his arm around Celia’s shoulders before squeezing her gently. The gesture reminded Cordez of himself and Asura when they were in their private quarters. He smiled. They seemed a happy couple.

  “Next time I’m out at Prometheus I’ll thank the research team in person,” said the Regent, and ended the transmission. He turned back toward Subdirector.

  “I’m sending you some information that will change the mind of the Druanii,” he said, and relayed Celia’s data files onward.

  Subdirector said nothing, and then another Orion sidled into the picture. There was much animated waving of the fern-like fronds that adorned their bodies.

  “This is one last message to the Druanii people,” said Cordez reassuringly. “Ancient treaties that the Invardii must abide by. On the strength of your trust in me, take them to the Druanii.”

  At the mention of ancient treaties, the two Orion seemed to hesitate. Cordez could only hope they would take a chance, and do as he asked.

  “What you require of us poses great risk to Orion,” said Subdirector. “This is difficult for us. We have to balance destruction of our race with fate of many other races. Invardii, mmm, suspect our messages to Druanii already.”

  Subdirector paused, and Cordez felt his heart stop.

  “We will send message on,” said Subdirector at last, “but Druanii must decide if we can contact you again. Danger is very great for us.”

  Cordez assured the two Orion that this would be a perfectly acceptab
le solution.

  “For the good of the many,” said Subdirector, and the gray ball slowly faded from Cordez’ living room.

  As Cordez thought about what he had asked the Orion to do, it made him feel sick at heart. How could he risk the destruction of a peaceful race like the Orion to increase the chances of survival of Earth and the Alliance? He wasn’t sure that what he had just done had been entirely ethical, though the Orion had chosen to do as he asked in full knowledge of the possible consequences.

  Cordez stood up and began to pace the room. He knew the activity was a good way to clear his head. After a while he drew one, long, deep breath.

  Whatever the ethics of the situation, the die was now cast. All he could do was be as ready as he could to field whatever the situation threw at him. He could feel it in his bones. The war was entering the end game.

  Out at Prometheus, part of that end game was being put into place, and the second event Cordez was looking for was underway.

  “So, we’re going back to Orouth,” said Celia, standing at attention in Finch’s office, “and we’re going to bring the remaining Valkrethi back to Prometheus?”

  “Exactly,” said Finch. “Cagill’s already been told to prepare all his Valkrethi pilots, and the reserves have been told they’re going too. There’s barely enough personnel to ferry the 162 Valkrethi remaining at Maka’H’Rosh to the freighters.

  “I thought I’d tell you in person, since you’re non-military personnel, and under my command more than Air Marshall Cagill’s.”

  Celia nodded.

  “Matsu Fujimi, and his assistant Meeaniro, will be attached to your team for the trip. Cordez doesn’t want to draw attention to the mission, so you’ll be going in fast and light, the same as you did the first time around. On the other hand he doesn’t want to leave you entirely undefended either.

  The remaining Valkrethi will be in storage on the way back, so you won’t be able to count on them if there’s trouble, and they don’t have a long distance stardrive capability that would allow them to run escort duty anyway. Matsu will be your ‘insurance’ against attack by the Invardii, do you understand?”

  Celia nodded vigorously. She had followed Matsu’s work on sub space pulses with interest, and knew how the technology could be used to tow missiles inside enemy ships, even though that work was supposed to be still experimental.

  “The task force will be carrying sub space generators and missiles, do you understand what I’m saying?” continued Finch.

  “I am fully conversant with his work,” replied Celia crisply. She was on the verge of snapping a salute, but thought it might be a bit over the top. She liked playing soldiers, it had an order and simplicity about it that appealed to her researcher’s brain.

  “Good,” said Finch. “I don’t want to have to bumble my way through an explanation when the topic is more your field than mine.

  “You’ve got 24 hours to get yourself and your research team organized. You’ll be taking the Orouth Freighter once again, but the lower decks will need to be cleared, so some of the Valkrethi can be stored there on the way back.

  “Understood?”

  This time it was okay to snap a crisp salute. She barked a quick ‘yessir’, and wheeled to march out the door when Finch gave her the ‘dismissed’ command.

  Finch was left a little bemused at the even-more-military-than-the-military approach of the civilian research head.

  CHAPTER 17

  ________________

  A convoy of eight bulky freighters left Prometheus at the close of the following day. It was four more days into the long stardrive flight to Orouth when Cagill’s navs officer relayed the news the Air Marshall least wanted to hear.

  “We’re being tracked,” said the navs officer. “Probably have been for some time, but the sub space pulses are strengthening, indicating they’re closer to us now.”

  The officer paused, and confirmed a reading on his console.

  “At least one vessel matching speed with us. It’s impossible to tell how close it is while we’re in stardrive, or whether it’s ahead of us or behind.”

  It wouldn’t be just one, Cagill knew that. The news filled him with a sinking feeling. One of the Buccra warships would be doing the tracking, but it would be part of a group of ships.

  He wouldn’t send a sub space message to Cordez. That might tip off the Buccra that they had been spotted. There was also no need, as he had orders that covered this situation. He was to press on regardless, and improvise as the situation demanded.

  Cagill reviewed his plan to bring the Valkrethi back from Orouth, running it through his mind as he sat in his commander’s chair. The freighters were two days out from their destination now, and Cordez had ordered him to bring the Valkrethi still at Maka’H’Rosh back to Prometheus – presumably for the attack on the Invardii city.

  The freighters had been fitted with Druanii shields, but the shields didn’t work against the Buccra warships. With the warships already on their tail, they would soon be sitting ducks against superior armaments, and the frustrating ability of the Buccra ships to regenerate themselves.

  The only chance the freighters had lay with Matsu and his sub space missiles. The problem there was finding ways to deploy them that caught the Buccra unawares. Cagill could only hope some sort of answer would come to him in the next few days.

  The freighters came out of stardrive as close to Orouth as they dared. The Invardii had shown they could actually come out of stardrive within the gravitational field of a planet, which had given them an advantage several times in the past. The Buccra would doubtless be capable of the same trick.

  As soon as the convoy emerged into normal space, it closed on the upper levels of the atmosphere. Then it was sinking into the boiling gray and white shapes of massive thunderclouds at the edge of space. Cagill was finally seeing first-hand what the research team had encountered on their journey into the turbulent atmosphere of Orouth.

  The endless columns of thunderclouds rose up around the convoy. The freighters were illuminated sporadically by flashes of purple light. It came from the ozone that was created in the stratosphere by the intense solar radiation of Orouth’s sun. Ice crystals lashed the freighters, and then they plunged into the howling interior of one of the thunderclouds.

  Cagill smiled grimly. It wasn’t all that bad, at least they had so far escaped being attacked by Buccra. But the freighters were designed for space, and the best the convoy could hope for was a controlled fall through the violent storms of the planet.

  The freighters had entered the planet’s atmosphere over the southern rain forest. If they could control their descent well enough, they should emerge into the bright sunshine of the desert before they ran out of height.

  The members of the convoy were connected through their navs systems by a continuous ring of sub space pulses. It was the only thing that kept them flying in any sort of formation. Every other form of communication was disrupted by the immense electrical discharges around them.

  Cagill winced as a bolt of lightning earthed against the side of his freighter, and the lighting on the bridge dropped to a gloomy darkness before brightening again. The peal of thunder that followed was a physical blow to his ears, even inside the thickness of the hull.

  Eight green dots showed on the navs officer’s screen, and a web of sub space connections painted a rose of gold lines between them. One of the eight moved more uncertainly than the rest, and the navs officer was watching it anxiously.

  “That shuttle pilot is a brave one,” said the freighter captain, stopping beside the navs officer. One of the freighters was a shuttle in disguise, part of Cagill’s plan to outwit the Buccra, but the shuttle was having a hard job keeping up with the freighters during the descent.

  “Best pilot we’ve got,” said the navs officer.

  The freighter shook, despite its considerable size and inertial stabilizers, and the captain grabbed the back of the navs officer’s seat for support.

 
; Cagill smiled. The captain was making a good show of nonchalance in the circumstances, and that was good for morale, but there was no way the Air Marshall was getting out of his chair.

  He thought about the shuttle pilot, and then about the missing freighter. It was hiding somewhere in the topmost levels of Orouth’s atmosphere, far above them. If his plan didn’t work, everyone on that freighter would be the first to die. And the rest of the convoy wouldn’t be far behind them.

  Cagill’s command freighter had set up one of its shuttles with sub space messaging capability, and deployed it as soon as the convoy entered the atmosphere. When the sub space pulses began to circulate among seven of the freighters and the shuttle, the Buccra would have to assume the eight freighters they saw disappear into the extreme weather over Orouth were now descending to the surface of the planet.

  The eighth freighter, though, was currently making its way across the upper layers of the stratosphere, rigged for silent running and giving Matsu Fujimi, and everyone else on board, one Stygian hells of a ride.

  As the main group of freighters fell through the thunderclouds, Cagill could see the extraordinary light show the research team had reported during their visit to Orouth. The white glow that had been growing around the freighter became tinged with gold, then a rosy hue, before it was shot with violet streaks.

  They weren’t that far from the thermo-incline now. Cagill asked the navs officer to put their course on the overhead screen, against a large-scale map of the surface.

  The unnaturally straight line where the rain forest, and the storms, ended showed just ahead of the freighters. Their projected course looked like it would take them over the rain forest boundary and into the desert before they ran out of height, and Cagill breathed a huge sigh of relief. His plan was working – so far.

  Inside the lone freighter, far above, Matsu and Meeaniro were struggling in appalling conditions. The ship was repeatedly slammed from side to side by the ferocity of the storms it encountered as it struggled through the upper atmosphere. The internal lighting wasn’t exactly reliable either, as huge electrical surges swept over the hull.