by Ivy Barrett
“It’s only fair,” Savator countered. “Your first officer scanned the hells out of me. He wasn’t even trying to conceal the fact that he was probing my mind.”
“We both have trust issues.” Ram paused to toss back half his glass.
“How sure are you that this base you spotted is Skarilian?”
Rather than explain, Ram activated a holo-display in the center of the table. “These are the images from our latest probe.” Ram had studied them extensively, but he still got chills each time he saw them. Vikrin held the portal open, so they had been able to navigate the probes rather than capturing random images like the first time. They now had images of the entire complex, including its six massive airfields. “Any doubt in your mind that they are Skarilian?”
Savator just shook his head, looking slightly stunned.
Ram smiled. And Savator hadn’t even seen the best part yet. Ram waited until the final image appeared and then paused the display. He didn’t say a word, just waited for the others to react.
The Celestian leaned closer, gaze narrowed and gleaming.
Savator tilted his head this way and that, then his eyes widened. “Holy fuck, is that a space dock?”
The image featured a facility in orbit around the planet’s largest moon. “I thought it was a repair station until we captured time-lapse. It’s definitely building ships, not just repairing them.”
“How did you find it?” Savator asked. “There is no way you located this with a random probe.”
Pleased by the chancellor’s awe, Ram finally relaxed a little. “Vikrin can be useful when he’s not stabbing you in the back. He brought one of the other gatekeepers with him about a week ago, and we were able to send a small recon shuttle through the gate they opened.”
“Are you sure all of these portals have gone unnoticed?” The Celestian didn’t seem nearly as impressed as the chancellor.
“All of the portals have been opened around the sections of Tavor not completely incinerated by the attacks. Even if they were noticed, the Skarilians didn’t react. Tavor is beneath their consideration now.”
“We won’t have the luxury of subtlety with the mega-gate,” Savator mused. “What’s your plan for the actual attack?”
“A combination of frontal assault and misdirection.” Ram triggered a diagram of the target star system. It contained eleven planets, but only three concerned them now. “This is Tavor.” He narrowed the scope of the image until only the three planets remained, then highlighted the gatekeeper’s former home. “The planet in the middle creates a blind spot between Tavor and the Skarilians’ planet. If the mega-gate is opened on the far side of Tavor, we can hide perhaps half of our ships before we become visible to the Skarilians. Most species are unable to detect Yashonty ships, but I simply don’t know if those bastards can or not.”
“So your fleet arrives first and the Ventori fleet remains in the blind spot as long as possible?” Savator asked.
“Yes. I have also planned a distraction that will at worst divide the Skarilians’ focus and at best allow all the ships into position before they realize they’ve been duped.”
“You’d like to attack the manufacturing station?” the Celestian guessed.
Ram nodded. “Taking out that target alone would be a major hit. If we manage to level the entire complex, it could cripple their forces and make them think twice about attacking us again.”
Savator shook his head. “That’s not good enough. They have to stop victimizing other species altogether. Turning their aggression on other innocent species is not an acceptable outcome.”
Desperately needing a momentary release of tension, Ram threw back his head and laughed. “Now you sound like me. You are the one who was opposed to genocide.”
“I’m still opposed to genocide,” Savator said firmly. “We must wipe out their military capabilities without unnecessary loss of life.”
Ram crossed his arms over his chest and pressed back into his chair. “And you know how the fuck we can achieve that?”
Savator smiled at him, but there was no mockery in the expression. “Actually, I do.”
Chapter Seven
“What am I looking at?” Four long days without his mate hadn’t improved Ram’s mood. He glanced at Chancellor Savator then returned his gaze to the wall display in the officers’ dining hall. The Dantexit was in close orbit above an unfamiliar planet. One side of the midsized world was a wasteland, while the other was lush green, with multiple bodies of vivid blue water. With patches of scorched ground and twisted debris fields, the barren areas were clearly the result of war rather than natural disaster or harsh climate. So how had the opposite side remained pristine?
“The planet was once called Rissalt,” Savator told Ram, “but I intend to rename it Nestril.”
Nestril was the Ventori word for agreement or accord. “Is this the handiwork of the Skarilians?” Ram motioned toward the display as the wasteland came back into view.
“This is the first planet the Skarilians attacked in this galaxy. The original occupants have long since relocated. I want to reclaim it in the name of our mutual alliance. It will be a safe haven for mixed domestic groupings. Many will resent the new combinations we are forming, so I want this place to focus on blended families. Regardless of the combination of Ventori, Yashonty, human, or whatever, the pod, tribe, or clan-mates will be welcome here as long as they follow our laws.”
“And which laws do we agree to follow?” Ram wanted to know. “Ventori laws are different than Yashonty. And both our customs are very different from the traditional expectations on Earth.”
“The Protectorate is founding the colony, so we will propose a set of rules, and the joint council will approve them.”
“The joint council?” It was the first time Ram had heard the term.
“Each species that joins the alliance will have a representative on the council,” Savator told him. “This will give everyone an equal say in what goes on.”
Knowing that bonding with human females would likely turn his soldiers into social outcasts had been one of the primary drawbacks of the transformation program. The Yashonty weren’t xenophobic like Tavorians, but the vast majority of refugees were Yashonty-only family units. Most cultures tended to be leery of anything different from the social norm. This bold colony would offer the rebels a viable alternative, an environment where they would be surrounded by families just as unconventional as theirs.
“It’s a noble ambition,” Ram said, “but we still need to end the war.”
Savator nodded. “If we can take a shuttle to the surface, I’ll show you how that will be accomplished.” It had been four days since Savator first mentioned his secret advantage and the stubborn Ventori refused to explain. All he would say was it would be worth the wait.
Ram was so miserable without Celeste that he quickly decided he didn’t care. Daily injections helped, as did frequent sessions with the simulator, but what he needed most was the firm grip of his mate’s wet pussy. His instincts would not abate until he was buried deep inside her.
The shuttle arrived at the surface destination two hours later. Ram was surprised to discover a small city largely untouched by the massacre. The shuttle put down in an overgrown field not far from a large metal hangar. Judging from the surrounding buildings and abandoned weaponry, this had once been a military base. Most of the equipment was simplistic compared to Yashonty tech. There didn’t seem to be any spaceships, just aircraft and ground artillery, which made Ram wonder how the former population had been evacuated. If this was the first planet attacked by the Skarilians, the evacuation would have predated the formation of the Protectorate.
“This is one of six cities we found that are still structurally sound. Utilities and infrastructure will need updating, but that should take weeks, maybe months, rather than years,” Savator told Ram as they made their way toward the hangar.
“The other side of the planet is a complete loss. Why was this side spared?”
>
Savator glanced at him as he said, “According to Celestian archives, the population surrendered and became slaves rather than continuing with a war they knew they couldn’t win. It was a foolish choice. Most died in captivity.”
Ram shook his head. The Yashonty would go down fighting rather than willingly make themselves slaves. Celeste’s defiant image challenged his conclusion. Ram had never truly faced the situation. It was easy to insist he would never tolerate slavery when he was strong enough to resist. Human females had no choice. They became slaves the moment a Yashonty hunter spotted them. Their only option was submission or death. And most Yashonty males made damn sure their comfort-givers never had the opportunity to choose death. Yashonty traditions had forced a fate they considered worse than death on countless alien females. He had been so consumed by rage and grief that he’d been blind to the oppression. That needed to change.
“What caused that expression?” Savator wanted to know. “You suddenly look guilty as hells.”
“Nothing that concerns the Ventori.”
Savator accepted the evasion and heaved open the massive rolling door to the hangar.
Squinting into the dark interior, Ram waited for his eyes to adjust. Gradually a shape separated itself from the shadows, a shape he had only seen in images. “Is this...” Ram rushed forward, barely able to believe what he was seeing. A sleek, angular Skarilian bomber/harvester stood before him, undamaged, at least structurally. These ships were dispatched from massive carrier ships that appeared out of nowhere, dealt unimaginable damage then disappeared just as quickly. “Is it still operational?”
“It was malfunctioning badly when the Brokvata came upon the scene. That’s how they captured it,” Savator said with a grin. “It’s currently offline, but my engineers assure me that all systems have been restored.”
This was unbelievable. The Skarilians were so elusive. This was like seeing a mythical animal in the flesh. “Where’s the crew?” He’d never seen a Skarilian, was starting to wonder if Celeste was right and none still existed. “Are any of them still alive?”
“Can’t help you there. The ship was automated.”
Ram looked at the Ventori, still shaking his head. “Celeste suggested that possibility. I laughed at her. She’ll feel vindicated to learn she was right.”
“The carrier ship definitely had a crew, but they flashed out of sight moments after the Brokvata spotted them.” The Brokvata was Savator’s elite guard. Like the dogs of war, they were only dispatched for the hardest, most complex missions. Well, they had certainly proven their worth this time.
“The Skarilians have some sort of trans-dimensional technology,” Ram muttered, lost in the possibilities. “Or they can form mystical gates like the Tavorians.”
“And, thanks to you, we know which dimension they jump to each time they disappear.” Savator slapped Ram on the back, clearly pleased with the developments.
“How long have you had the bomber?” Ram wanted to know.
“Two weeks, but it’s only been in the past couple of days that the pieces started fitting back together. I didn’t want to give anyone false hope, so I didn’t even tell the High Command about the incident until we’d learned something significant. That’s why the ship is here rather than on Earth.”
“Where was the Brokvata when they captured it?”
Savator looked at Ram and smiled. “They were out near Mars, searching for you.”
Enjoying the irony, Ram chuckled. “If I hadn’t kidnaped Celeste, the Brokvata never would have captured this ship.”
“And the ship allowed us to figure out the Skarilians’ primary weakness,” Savator admitted.
“Which is?”
“A complete lack of ingenuity. If this ship is an accurate reflection, all of their technology is borrowed from other species. Nothing we found was uniquely Skarilian. We mirrored the ship’s primary computer, and our translation interface identified their program language in less than an hour. It’s a modified version of Partonese.”
Ram nodded. The Partonese were one of the few species able to produce transport conduits large enough for a ship to pass through. Unfortunately, their portals only led between Parton and various locations around their galaxy. The Skarilians had obviously overcome that limitation.
All of this information was fascinating and potentially important, but Savator had promised a weapon, not just a possibility. “How will one ship enable us to win the war?”
“My programmers wrote a debilitating code that can be inserted into the ship’s operating system. Humans would call it a virus. It will spread to their automated ships and drones in a matter of minutes. It disrupts every system at once, like flipping a switch. Their entire strike force will drop out of the sky before the Skarilians even realize we’ve located them.”
Thanks to his new perspective, Ram couldn’t help thinking about all the destruction those ships would cause with their uncontrolled descent. “We need to make damn sure the ships fall on their planet and nowhere else.” Even that made him uncomfortable. As Celeste was quick to point out, not every Skarilian was participating in the devastation. If the alliance made no effort to protect the innocent, they were no better than the Skarilians. “Every precaution must be taken to minimize collateral damage.”
Savator looked at him, clearly shocked by his concern. “Given the estimated rate of descent, ships this size,” he motioned toward the bomber, “will burn up in the atmosphere.”
Ram was relieved to hear that, but he still had some real concerns. “Their attacks never seem to stop. How can we ensure that the majority of their fleet is there for the fight?”
“If we attack the space dock as well as every military base we can identify, they will have no choice but to recall their carriers.”
And their ability to jump between dimensions would allow them to instantaneously respond to the threat. “Do you know how many carriers they have?”
“Our best guess is four, but it is an educated guess. The good news is that no one has ever seen a midsize fighter. It’s always the massive carriers and a swarm of bombers. If the virus takes out the bombers, all that leaves us is the four carriers.”
“Our attack will have to be fast and ruthless,” Ram said. “We’ll have to destroy the carriers before they jump to another dimension.”
“I think we’re all more than ready for ruthless.” Hearing his own words, Savator sighed. “Still, our solution can’t be to slaughter everyone, or we will have become our enemy.” After a long pause, Savator said, “There are several Partonese hybrids who have joined the Protectorate. I’ll see if any of them can get their hands on the schematics for a transport conduit generator. If we have a better idea of what one looks like, it will be easier to target.”
Ram nodded. Taking out the Skarilians’ ability to jump dimensions would greatly increase the alliance’s chances of success. “How will you plan to upload this virus? I don’t know if it’s true, but one of my contacts said the Skarilians immediately blow up any ship that has been compromised.”
“If that were true, they would have destroyed the bomber as soon as it encountered the Brokvata.”
Savator had a point, but the ship had been malfunctioning at the time. Maybe the self-destruct function had been offline. They had to anticipate every possibility. They could only have the element of surprise once.
“We’ll bring the captured ship back online just long enough for the Skarilians to detect it,” Savator continued. “They will doubtlessly shut it down—or blow it up—as soon as they realize it’s one of the ships they lost, but a millisecond is all we need to upload the program. Once uploaded, there will be no stopping it. All of the automated ships are networked. That much is obvious from the programming.”
Ram’s only response was another thoughtful nod, and they stood side by side for a moment in silence. The plan still had some problems, but it was a damn good start. A few days of brainstorming between Ram’s advisors and Savator’s ministers should f
ill in the holes.
“I wish to all the powers of creation that I understood what drove those bastards.” Savator scrubbed his short-cropped hair with one hand as he stared at the captured ship. “The Skarilians have seemed irrational from the start.”
“Have you ever heard of the Melmon?”
Savator looked at Ram as he shook his head. “Is that a species?”
“They’re a race of deceitful cowards who work with and for the Skarilians rather than suffering their wrath. I have a Melmon female aboard my ship. Two actually, but one is involved in the social drama that resulted in my bonding with Celeste.”
“If you’re referring to Kezma, she’s Tavorian, not Melmon.”
Ram chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck. “If only it were that simple. Kezma and my pilot Stagin met during her captivity. He was not her master, but they snuck around and formed a sexual relationship. She escaped during the evacuation of Yashontara, but the two have remained in contact ever since.”
“So this pilot, Stagin, is feeding her the information she passed on to me.”
“Correct. They realized their chances of being together greatly increase if I agree to an alliance with the Protectorate, so they’ve been plotting for a way to make that happen. Now here’s where the real drama begins. Stagin has a Melmon comfort-giver named Callita. She is Pryar’s lover, so Pryar agreed to customize an injection that would trigger bonding fever in Galzar and me if Stagin gave him Callita.”
“You sharing a mate with a Ventori commander is damn good motivation toward an alliance,” Savator mused. “Was Vikrin even aware of what they’d done when he gave Celeste the injections?”
“That’s irrelevant. Even if Vikrin didn’t realize the code had been modified, he forced the transformation on Celeste, as well as Galzar and me. That’s a criminal act.”
“True.” Savator paused as he absorbed the details. “Why did you ask if I’d heard of the Melmon?”
“Because my head of security has been interrogating Callita for the past several days, and her story remains consistent. She was even scanned by my first officer, and he sensed no deception.”
