“Our contact is a Daklan captain named Jir-Lazan and he commands the desolator class Aktrivisar,” he said. “And that is the sum total of the HPA’s knowledge of both this officer and his warship.”
The lightspeed calculations were a few seconds out and the Axiom shuddered into local space. Recker sucked in deep breaths to quell the nausea and threw the controls forward. The warship accelerated strongly and the propulsion thundered.
“Status reports!” he yelled.
“Local area scan commenced,” said Burner.
“I got the fars,” added Larson.
“No errors or failures to report on the propulsion or any linked system,” called Eastwood. “Everything’s at one hundred percent.”
“Local area scan complete. Running a sweep for open comms receptors. Got something! Sir, the Aktrivisar is showing a green receptor.”
“I’ve located the desolator on our sensors,” said Larson. “They’re a quarter of a million klicks from our position.”
Considering the distances both warships had travelled to get to this lonely part of the universe, they’d arrived with remarkable proximity.
“Put them on the tactical.”
“Done. They’re stationary.”
“No sign they’re preparing to fire,” said Aston.
“A visual confirms their Terrus cannons are not trained on our spaceship, sir,” added Burner. “Here’s the Aktrivisar up on the comms. Doesn’t look much like a desolator.”
Not wanting to be the only one dancing at the party, Recker slowed the Axiom and stopped the evasive manoeuvres. At the same time, he kept one eye on the sensor feed of the Daklan heavy cruiser. Like Burner had said, the vessel was different to other desolators. The Aktrivisar was longer and bulkier, with four twin-barrel Terrus cannons instead of the usual two.
“It’s not just the HPA that’s been working on something new,” said Recker. “That desolator’s been loaded up with extra armour just like we have.”
“Most desolators have a mass range between eight and ten billion tons, depending on when they were constructed,” said Eastwood. “I reckon that one’s at fifteen billion tons. Five billion up on the Axiom.”
“And four hundred metres longer than normal,” said Aston. “What’s the old terminology? A pocket battleship? A battle cruiser?”
Recker didn’t know if the Daklan had created a whole new class of warship, or if the Aktrivisar was just a modified version of their existing heavy cruisers – a desolator on steroids. One thing was certain – he didn’t want to get into a slugging match with it.
“Watch them closely. Lieutenant Burner, request a channel.”
“Channel request accepted. Captain Jir-Lazan would like to speak with you, sir.”
“Bring him through on the bridge speakers.”
Jir-Lazan had a voice that was so rough it bore a striking resemblance to low-octave white noise.
“Captain Carl Recker,” said the Daklan.
“Captain Jir-Lazan,” Recker returned. “We have come as agreed.”
“So I see. You are the Carl Recker who destroyed our fleet at your planet Lustre.”
“Yes.”
“Then perhaps the HPA has chosen a suitable officer for this mission.”
“They have. I was told you have information for me.”
A raucous sound emerged from the bridge speakers – a sound which made Recker think of two immensely heavy slabs of abrasive stone rubbing together. Jir-Lazan was laughing.
“I have a destination, Captain Recker. That is all. A place far from here – we name it the Lanak system.”
“What were your ships looking for?”
The laugh came again, this time lasting for only a couple of seconds. “Weapons.”
“It sounds like they found what they were looking for.”
“That is our conclusion. Were the choice mine, we would send a hundred Daklan warships to Lanak. Unfortunately, the war council sees it otherwise. They are wary of the core override.”
“You are familiar with the weapon?”
“Of course! Do you believe we Daklan have only encountered the Lavorix in places familiar to your HPA? This has been going on longer than you know, human.”
“What defence does the Aktrivisar have against the core override?”
Jir-Lazan didn’t answer at once and Recker guessed he was considering how much he was permitted to give away.
“We have a defence against the core override.”
“Is it tested?”
Another hesitation. “No. The hardware is experimental.”
“Well that puts us both in the same position,” said Recker.
“If we allow our vessels to be affected by a core override, the fault will be ours.”
Having seen the Interrogator fire an override into his warship Expectation from fifteen million kilometres, Recker didn’t agree with the Daklan’s assessment. He didn’t mention it. “Does your species count itself at war with both the Meklon and the Lavorix?”
“The Lavorix, yes. The Meklon, no.”
“So if we encounter the Lavorix, you will attack them without provocation, assuming the situation warrants it?”
“That is correct.”
“The HPA has not yet declared war on either Meklon or Lavorix.”
“This might cause problems on our mission.”
Recker mentally cursed the lack of communications between the HPA and Daklan which might well have attached a ball and chain to the mission before it even got underway. He required guidance and that meant an FTL comm to Admiral Telar. He muted the channel.
“How long to get an FTL message to Admiral Telar and receive the response?”
“In excess of twenty-four hours,” said Burner promptly.
“Damnit!” Recker took the comms off mute. “Have the Lavorix specifically declared war on the Daklan?” he asked. “Or have they simply been destroying your vessels without dialogue?”
“We have had no dialogue.”
From experience, Recker knew the Daklan treated negotiation as an optional distraction, or at least they did when it came to their dealings with the HPA.
“Have the Daklan attempted to speak with the Meklon or Lavorix?”
“That is not our way.”
Upon hearing the response, Recker closed his eyes for a moment. “You’re fighting and you don’t know why?”
“We are fighting because our initial encounters were hostile. The Daklan do not back down from a confrontation.”
That was something Recker knew all too well. “Are they an opponent you can overcome?”
“We lack sufficient data to reach a conclusion. The known network of tenixite converters is abandoned, perhaps because the Lavorix were forced to do so, or perhaps because they had eliminated their Meklon enemies in that area of space.”
“The Lavorix could have an empire which spans a thousand worlds, or they might have suffered catastrophic losses in their war.”
“You are familiar with the concept of uncertainty,” said Jir-Lazan.
“It’s something I’ve learned to live with.”
“But not to love.” Once again, the Daklan erupted into laughter, which persisted for many seconds.
Recker exchanged a glance with Aston and waited for Jir-Lazan to settle himself.
“The Lavorix destroyed our planet Fortune without provocation,” said Recker. “On this mission, I will treat them as the enemy and act accordingly.”
“I am glad that your Admiral Telar sent an officer capable of making decisions,” said Jir-Lazan. “You know how the Daklan fight and I know how the HPA fights. We will offer a formidable challenge to the Lavorix shit-faces.”
“However, we will engage only where necessary,” said Recker firmly.
“I agree,” said Jir-Lazan at once. “There is more than one way to tear the skin from a bleeding corpse.”
The language module was clearly having a problem with the Daklan vernacular, but Recker got the message. Not only th
at, but the speed of the response told him that the Jir-Lazan wasn’t so blinded by the need for combat that he would rush into every engagement. Or so Recker hoped.
“From our conversation so far, I have learned that we are heading into the complete unknown,” he said.
“Perhaps that is no bad thing,” Jir-Lazan replied. “If our futures were written in a list and handed to us at birth, where would come the pleasure of discovery?”
“There are times when it’s better to know.”
“Given that we have no choice in the matter, all living species should embrace the chaos. From it, we can bring order.”
“A discussion for later.”
“Of course. I will have the destination coordinates and a synchronisation code sent across to your warship. We should depart immediately – our destination is approximately three days from here.”
“Closer than I was expecting.”
“The enemy once lived on our doorsteps, human. Where they are now, perhaps we will find out.”
“Indeed.” Unwilling to abandon this opportunity to learn more from the Daklan, Recker had one last try. “Is there anything else you can tell us before we depart? This is the first joint HPA-Daklan mission that I’m aware of. Our success or otherwise will be remembered.”
“I am not keeping anything from you that I am permitted to speak of,” said Jir-Lazan, showing a talent for evasion. “I will send you some basic data concerning the Aktrivisar’s capabilities, if you will do the same for your own vessel.”
“Agreed.” Recker turned and nodded at Burner to indicate his should proceed.
The comms went quiet as if the conversation was over, but Jir-Lazan had something else to say. “This may be the beginning of the end, human. The Daklan will fight to the last.”
The words made Recker shiver and he knew Jir-Lazan was waiting for a response. “As will the HPA.”
“I am not so sure.”
“Then you are wrong.”
“In which case, it bodes well for you.” Another laugh. “Perhaps, should our own differences be too great to overcome and our war resumes, you may yet offer the Daklan a challenge.” More laughter.
Recker held in a sigh and turned to find Lieutenant Burner with his thumb in the air to indicate he’d received a synch code.
“We’ve got what we need, Captain Jir-Lazan,” said Recker.
The laughter stopped. “This place is as empty as the balls of a rutting [translation unknown]. Let us depart at once.”
Abruptly, the comms channel went dead, leaving Recker unable to decide what to make from the conversation.
“Accept the synch code,” he said.
“Done. We’re warming up for a departure,” said Eastwood. “It looks like a dead-heat between our processing cores and theirs.”
“A tie feels like a victory,” said Fraser.
“I didn’t want to say it, but I agree,” said Aston.
“Does the Lanak system appear on the HPA charts?” asked Recker.
“Yes, sir,” Burner confirmed. “We’ve mapped the central star but assigned it one of those letters-and-numbers names that no human brain can easily memorise. We haven’t visited the place and none of the monitoring stations have taken a closer look. Luckily, the Daklan sent us some details along with the information on their warship.”
“I’ll check it out once we’re at lightspeed.”
“Yes, sir.”
The timer counted down, while Recker pondered the future of this mission. His conversation with Jir-Lazan had been in some ways enlightening, though it had also raised many questions. It was clear the Daklan were worried and too damn proud to come out and say it. Not only that, the aliens clearly had a greater knowledge of the Lavorix than the HPA, but that still didn’t seem to be much. Jir-Lazan had scarcely made of an effort to hide the fact.
As the lightspeed drive activated, Recker felt more troubled than ever.
Chapter Eight
The three-day journey passed quickly and the crew spent much of the time engaged in speculation. As usual, little came from it other than frustration and, for Recker, the arrival at the Lanak system couldn’t come soon enough. His intuition told him that answers lay there and he fully intended to live long enough to carry the information back to high command.
And, while the HPA wasn’t strictly at war with the Lavorix, Recker couldn’t see a downside to blowing up a few of the aliens’ facilities and warships, should the opportunity present itself. For once, he could apply the word enemy to a species which wasn’t the Daklan, which left him wondering exactly how humanity’s relationship with its most longstanding foe would turn out.
Any thoughts of them being friends was completely misguided, though Recker admitted that Jir-Lazan had left him with a positive impression. The fact the Daklan was in charge of a powerful warship like the Aktrivisar meant his superiors held him in high regard, and he therefore had the potential to be a useful ally in the coming mission.
An hour before arrival, Recker called up the mission documentation again, though he already knew it word for word. One of the final paragraphs described the agreement to share all data equally between the two parties, except as it pertained to locations of populated worlds and planets with significant installations or ternium processing facilities.
How anyone thought he’d be able to make the distinction, he had no idea. If enemy data was stolen during the mission, it was likely to require dedicated facilities to interpret, rather than guesswork on the battlefield. It was a problem for later, along with the instructions on what he was expected to do in cases where the Daklan became excessively difficult to handle or refused to share.
Trust was in short supply everywhere and Recker didn’t want to be the man responsible for re-igniting the Daklan war at a time when the HPA really needed the breathing space. With an effort, he kept his face neutral and closed out of the file.
Aston didn’t miss much and, as Recker’s backup, she was privy to most of the details in the mission documentation. “It might never happen, sir.”
“If it does, we won’t be the driving force.”
“Captain Jir-Lazan had something about him.”
“He did. That only suggests he’s a competent officer, rather than having the HPA’s best interests at heart.”
“I disagree, sir,” said Aston. “This mission is happening because, for once, the Daklan need us as much as we need them. Jir-Lazan isn’t here to betray us, though I’m sure there are circumstances in which he might do so. Both parties have an equal stake and this is the moment when we discover if this one-off alliance will result in bigger things.”
“Peace with the Daklan in order to fight the Lavorix,” said Recker.
“You know what tough bastards the Daklan are, sir. Whatever happens, I’d rather have them on our side for the coming war.”
“You’re convinced it’s happening?”
“We all know it.” Aston exhaled, as if saying the words had made a secret thought tangible. “No species can suffer the loss of a planet and accept the perpetrators as anything other than an enemy to be defeated.”
“And here we are. The burden of a few hundred billion souls – human and Daklan alike – resting on the outcome of one mission.”
“I know you’re being facetious, sir, and I also know you believe it’s true.”
“It’s a lot to deal with. I can handle it.” He laughed bitterly. “I’ve got no choice.”
The conversation ended and the Axiom’s crew prepared for re-entry into local space. Lieutenant Burner ran through the information provided by the Daklan about the Lanak solar system. It was light on details.
“The Lanak star has a diameter approximately four hundred times greater than that of Earth’s sun,” he said. “It has absorbed any close-in planets, leaving a bunch of others much further out. We’re heading for a planet named Qul, which is between forty and forty-five billion klicks from Lanak and thought to be covered in ice.”
“And that’s as
much as we know about Qul,” said Larson. “The Daklan recorded the presence of other satellites further out from Lanak, but they weren’t interested in them and didn’t gather any useful data.”
“Meaning they were pretty sure what they were looking for was on Qul,” said Aston.
“Weapons,” said Recker. “Weapons that were enough to capture or destroy a Daklan fleet.”
“Did you ever learn how many warships they lost, sir?”
“No. That’s something they’ve been keeping to themselves.”
“Anyway, the lightspeed calculations for this journey aim to land us fifty million klicks from Qul,” said Eastwood. “We know the planet’s orbital track, so we shouldn’t end up on the wrong side of Lanak. That’s if everything goes to plan.”
“After that, a softly-softly approach,” said Recker. “I’m damned if I’m going to be taken unawares by another alien weapon we have no defence against.”
“What if Captain Jir-Lazan decides to go for the frontal approach, sir?” asked Burner.
“I don’t think he will. It’s his synch code that’ll bring us to fifty million klicks. If he wanted all guns blazing, he’d have argued for a much closer arrival point.”
Although he spoke the words, Recker wondered if he really believed them. He knew he’d find out soon enough if the Daklan captain was capable of adopting a measured approach.
When Eastwood called out his two-minute warning, the crew settled in anticipation of their arrival. Fifty million kilometres was theoretically enough to ensure safety out of lightspeed, but Recker knew they were dealing with many unknowns, not least of which being the missing Daklan warships.
“Any second!” yelled Eastwood.
Right on time, the Axiom’s ternium drive shut off and the warship entered local space. Recker barked a few commands and began his usual evasive pattern of banking and rolling the warship in case anything hostile was close by.
“Local scan clear,” said Burner.
“I’m scanning for open receptors,” said Larson. “I’ve located the Aktrivisar!”
Recker couldn’t deny his relief. “Where are they?”
Galactar (Savage Stars Book 3) Page 6
