by L. E. Horn
Instead, Michael focused on the specifics revealed by the holomap. Along the bottom margin ran altering dimensions as the focal point changed. He noticed in some places the walls rose over three hundred feet and the floor stretched half a mile across. The canyon twisted and turned along a remote stretch of terrain. It narrowed as it knifed between two Gryphon settlements and terminated at a pass leading into the mountains.
The home of the Darkon, Michael thought. He noticed the Gryphon communications expert, Shan, standing in as holotech. The dark blue and silver Grypha manipulated the holomap in response to Drake’s signals.
Oblivious to Michael’s ruminations, Drake continued. “This area, carved out eons ago by the Darkon River, provides an attacking army with a pathway to the mountains, one bypassing the ring of Gryphon valleys. The Gryphon have long recognized this vulnerability, so they created several defensible barriers early in the war. These defenses have caused the Tlok’mk to treat the area with caution, but the site has become desirable now that the plasma cannon may destroy the shield.
“Until now, the Gryphon strategy has been to act as a barrier between the Tlok’mk forces in the jungle and the grasslands. A head-on battle would not only result in high Gryphon casualties, but it would be a slave slaughter. Unfortunately, with the Fang focus on the canyon, we must re-evaluate our tactics.”
Heads nodded. “The Tlok’mk intend to force us into a full-frontal assault. This would put us at the mercy of their laser cannons and reduce the advantage of Gryphon speed and maneuverability.” Shan shifted the map back to an overhead view. “For the Tlok’mk, this is the only strategy that makes sense. There is another, more ominous reason the canyon will work well for them. If they trap our forces within its walls and the shield goes down, the Gryphon army will be obliterated by the plasma cannon. We have little choice but to meet them head on and have faith that our mission to destroy that weapon will be successful.”
Drake looked to Shan, who tapped at buttons on her console. The map shifted to show dimensions. “The walls are too high to give us a good defensive position.” Drake’s pointer traced the rocky cliffs. “Also, the width makes it impossible to seal off. To keep the enemy at bay, we will have to resort to an alternative strategy from what we have used to date. This will be a different kind of battle.”
He hesitated as the whispers rose and fell. “Kesar”—he nodded to the old Gryph—“and I have spent the morning reviewing how the canyon defenses will help us in this battle.” As the holomap swept along, several fortifications lit up. There were deep trenches and large boulders strategically placed plus a few rock walls spanning three-quarters of the width. “Although no fortification blocks it completely,” Drake said, “they’ll force the Tlok’mk army to work through narrow channels at several key points. This will put our enemy at a disadvantage since most weapons won’t have a clear path to the Gryphon army. These are perfect spots for concentrated attacks. Which brings us to a discussion of the slaves, which will undoubtedly be at the forefront.”
Drake rocked back and forth on his toes, glancing to where a small group of Healers stood near the tent entrance.
Michael noted that at some point in Drake’s narrative, Andrea and Hannah arrived from the valley. Andrea didn’t work out with the Darkon, he guessed. I would have felt better if Andrea went with Lianndra.
Meanwhile, Drake continued with his tactical overview. “Although part of our strategy involves engaging the enemy directly, we must consider that their army relies heavily on slaves whose collars may already be disabled. We’ve spoken with the Healers to estimate the numbers, and we figure thirty percent within the army can mutiny. This could work for us since many slaves may suspect something is wrong with their collars and could test control during the battle, although we can’t count on this to swing the war in our favor. Our strategy, therefore, doesn’t rely on slave mutiny within their army.” Drake paused to ensure all were listening before continuing. “Our plan consists of three separate pieces. The first and largest part of the army will engage in a strike-and-retreat initiative at the front line, under the command of Kesar.”
Shan shifted the map’s focus to the end closest to the jungle.
“A second, smaller force will flank the Fang army,” Drake said. “This second force will attempt to pinch the Tlok’mk against Kesar’s force at the front line. We understand that won’t be as easy as it sounds.” The holomap focused on the jungle end of the canyon. “The Tlok’mk know we’ll try to get in behind them and force them to fight on two fronts. They’ll have a strategy to stop such a move, one likely involving another buffer contingent of slave soldiers combined with some entrenched heavy arsenal. The army charged with this task will have to adapt to what stands between them and their goal to keep the slave and Gryphon casualties as low as possible. Luckily, we have a few tricks up our sleeves. Karn will lead this initiative.” Drake nodded to the tall young Gryphon standing near Kesar.
Michael glanced at the Gryphon father and son. Man, when Kesar and Karn stand close together, the family resemblance is obvious. He shifted his feet, waiting for Drake to get to the important part. Important to me, anyway. His eyes returned to the rebel captain who gestured to Shan. The Grypha panned the map a little forward of the jungle access point. Here the canyon narrowed, the result of a series of planned rock slides executed by the Gryphon. Walls of large boulders partly blocked the width. “This is the site of a third initiative crucial to our overall success. We will time this foray before the frontal and rear assaults begin. We intend to lower an assault team off the cliff walls.” He indicated the area with his pointer. “The rockslides will offer cover, and the assault will be at night to give us every advantage.”
Michael straightened from the post he’d been leaning on. Sounds like a Berserker opportunity.
“This third assault team will consist of humans and Healers. We believe most Fang commanders will be in this protected central zone surrounded by their bodyguards. We intend to take out this leadership. With them dead, most slaves will no longer be bound by their collars. This will create confusion. Any Fang commanders remaining may try to transfer slave control to their own collars, but transferring control requires time and direct contact with each slave. Time we don’t intend to give them.”
Drake paused as if to let the information sink in. Then he continued. “I’m sure you recognize this will all be in vain unless we can stop the plasma cannon from destroying the shield. Even assuming we defeat the ground forces, if the shield fails, the plasma cannon will rain hell down on all of us.” Drake looked grim. “We don’t have any way to defeat an aerial strike, especially one of this size. If the shield fails, our only option is to get back to the valleys as fast as possible and help with the evacuation to the mountains. The canyon will trap the army, so getting everyone out is a priority.” Drake paused again. “Most of you know we’re launching an attack on the cannon. We must have faith this initiative will be successful and we will emerge victorious. As long as the shield holds, we have to sustain our end of the battle. We’re fighting for freedom, not only of the slaves, but for the continued freedom of our Gryphon partners in this venture. Remember, when you’re out there fighting, you’re fighting for what is right. There is no worthier goal.”
Silence greeted his last words. He nodded to Kesar. “My esteemed colleague will coordinate the three groups. Please report to him for your assignments. We’re not forcing any freed slaves to participate in this initiative, but I’m proud to say most have volunteered to help. We’ll need Gryphon volunteers to carry our soldiers into battle. I will lead the third strike team. May whatever gods you believe in be with you.”
The meeting broke up. Sean’s familiar voice spoke from behind Michael. “The cap got through the entire speech without a single ‘mate,’ ‘bloke,’ or ‘strewth.’ He’s been holding out on us.”
“You would not want us charging the wrong way down the canyon,” Tomas said. “The Gryphon understand English, not Aussie.”
Michael glanced at the smaller man. He still couldn’t place Tomas’s accent. Hungarian?
As the tent emptied, Sean leaned closer to Tomas. “So, what does your Roma fortune-teller blood have to say now?”
Ah. Michael thought. Romanian.
“I think my grandmother is rolling over in her grave as we speak,” Tomas said. “Being a slave had nothing on this craziness.”
“Your Roma blood better predict we will win.” Michael gestured for Sean and Tomas to precede him. “You can tell it the Berserker will make it happen. No other outcome is acceptable.”
Sean moved past Michael. “Sticking with the Berserker seems the most sensible way to survive. Why do you think I volunteer for all your missions?”
Tomas shook his head and sighed, his expression resigned as he followed Sean. “Meanwhile, I am behind you all the way.”
AT FIRST GLANCE, THE SHIPS appeared impressive.
Sleek and elongated, with a graceful curve to the large triangular wings, they evoked the spiritual essence of the Gryphon themselves. Virra pointed out the adaptations for space flight: tail fins and wings that slid into the fuselage once they were out of the atmosphere.
Impressions changed as they approached the ships, and their age became clear. Although they looked well repaired, many panels showed signs of replacement or mending. A few ships even had scorch marks on their sides, making Lianndra wonder if they’d seen battle on their voyage through space.
Okay, so they’re more smuggler than final frontier, she thought. Doesn’t mean they aren’t space worthy.
The hangar was deep underground and bustled with activity. MiniGryphon and a few full-sized versions crawled over, around, and inside the ships.
“How old are they?” Lianndra asked. She remembered what Virra said about the Gryphon explorers long ago. It sounded as though they existed beyond living memory. Surely, they aren’t that old.
Virra’s fine nostrils flared as she turned to address the three Healers. “They are old as ships go. We built them to explore other worlds. Although we no longer venture far from our planet, we have maintained a handful of ships in space readiness at all times.”
Apparently, they are that old, Lianndra thought in shock.
Virra extended an arm to sweep the hangar’s length. “When we built them, we incorporated the finest design concepts in the galaxy, resulting in a swift, agile, versatile, and durable ship. They were well ahead of their time, and one of the first to employ a cloaking device. Outdated now, but they can still hold their own against ships a great deal more modern.”
Hold their own? Lianndra wondered.
Virra continued. “We designed them as premier exploration vessels outfitted with scientific analysis equipment.” She sighed. “When the project terminated, we brought the remaining ships here and retrofitted them with small laser cannons. Their speed and agility serves them well to patrol our borders.”
So, Lianndra thought, fast, agile, but not well-armed. No wonder the Gryphon put their efforts into a shield. She watched the hangar technicians bustling about, refitting ships to accomplish a task for which they were never designed.
A slim miniGrypha approached. The white cape draped over her narrow back piqued Lianndra’s interest. The cape blended with her white fur and contrasted with the indigo spots on her face and crest.
“We are ready, Shiev Virra,” the white miniGrypha said.
Virra nodded, and the group headed back the way they’d come. As they walked, Virra said, “This is Berr, one of five pilots who will go with you.”
One of five? Lianndra counted at least twenty ships within the hangar. Five pilots? This briefing will be interesting.
TARK’TOSK’S TECHS WERE WORKING to coordinate the massive shipment of new slave recruits. War technician Sark’naek almost missed the subtle beep when the message came through. The code indicated the secure channel activation. It is from the Gryphon, she thought in shock. Sark’naek’s coworkers were too busy to notice as she activated the transmission.
She listened to the message and her hearts froze. Tricky, the timing is tight. With this latest slave initiative coming so unexpectedly, she’d not yet heard the rebellion’s response. If there is one. All she could do was deliver the information and hope for the best.
She sent the message on its way and deleted it just as Tark’tosk stalked into the strategy room and rattled off instructions to them in clipped tones. The extra techs needed to coordinate this final push had the room bustling with barely controlled chaos. Tark’tosk’s presence obviously intimidated them, so they hurried to follow her orders. The coordinator intervened to correct the tech closest to her, lest the inexperienced young Fara send slaves off into the jungle on the incorrect vector.
Sark’naek experienced a stab of guilt. Sometimes, it is hard to do the right thing and not feel like a traitor.
INTERESTING IS AN UNDERSTATEMENT, Lianndra thought a short time later. It’s a good thing Michael isn’t here. He’d be hovering at level Six by now. Going into this, she knew knocking out the plasma beam would be a long shot. I had no idea just how long.
It turned out the Gryphon possessed a grand total of five pilots. Each mentored an apprentice, currently training as copilots. Five pilots. Lianndra sighed. Considering the Gryphon were a peaceful race until the Fang came after the Darkon, we are lucky to have any trained pilots at all. A pilot, copilot, and engineer crewed each ship. Five ships, fifteen miniGryphon, three mostly human Healers, and a handful of small dragon critters. We’ll have the Fang trembling in their boots!
Lianndra had never been in the meeting room close to the hangar. The crew members sat around a polished metal table, all dressed in white capes. The miniGryphon wore identical, unruffled expressions that seemed familiar. She concluded they reminded her of Drake. Perhaps it’s an expression shared by all professional military people—another characteristic crossing species boundaries. If they know they might not come back from this mission, they hide it well.
Virra gestured to a holoimage in the table’s center. Above the large green and gold orb hovered five objects, roughly spherical, with various asymmetrical bulges. Their massive size became clear when seen in relation to the planet.
Five Motherships, five Gryphon ships. Too bad ours are so small, Lianndra thought.
Virra’s voice remained unemotional, clear, and concise. “There are five Tlok’mk Motherships. As far as we are aware, this is their full complement in this galaxy. The fifth ship arrived a short time ago. We believe the energy grids of all the ships are required to complete and power the plasma cannon.”
The holomap changed to provide a three-dimensional image. It now showed the Motherships’ relationship to each other and to the planet.
“The ships are arrayed in a circle on a plane parallel to the planetary surface, and over our primary continent,” Virra said. The view shifted again, showing a smaller disc in the midst of the behemoths.
“This disc marks the plasma cannon’s location,” Virra said. “Power is emitted in the form of a rhythmic beam from the five ships. All five beams coalesce at the cannon. Energy gathers within before it is released on the shield.”
The image showed a ray of bright plasma pulsing out from the disc at regular intervals, hitting the planet’s shield and creating the earthquake-like shudders beneath their feet.
“The cannon,” Virra continued, “is protected by the ring of Motherships. We know the Tlok’mk have drone fighter capability. Each Mothership has a full complement. Success relies on stealth, but if they activate those drones, our mission is at an end.” Virra’s expression indicated the seriousness of those words. She looked toward the silent line of pilots. “Our plan is simple, but it relies on careful attention to timing. To protect the electronic components of our ships during takeoff, we must lower the shield.”
What? Lower the shield? “Why do we have to lower the shield? Don’t the Fang launch ships back to the Motherships all the time?” Lianndra said as politely
as possible. Virra met her eyes and blinked. Lianndra knew her face must have revealed her dismay.
“Yes they do,” Virra replied, “but the Tlok’mk rockets do not have onboard electronics or engines affected by penetrating the shield. Once the rockets are boosted clear, the Motherships retrieve them with tractor vessels. No ship with functioning electronics can penetrate the shield undamaged.”
Right. Rocket launches. Lianndra nodded her understanding.
“We will let the Tlok’mk think our shields are failing,” Virra said.
As another shudder ran beneath their feet, Lianndra concluded it wouldn’t be far from the truth.
“During the plasma cannon’s burst, we will trigger a large explosion just outside this valley. This will act as a decoy by mimicking a shield generator failure. It should distract the sensors on the Motherships, so they do not detect the rocket catapults needed to launch our small vessels. We will drop the shields at precisely the moment our ships penetrate the edge of the atmosphere. If any of you hit the shield before it is down, your electronics and engines will sustain damage and you will fall back to Tarin.” Virra nodded to the pilots.
Lianndra swallowed. Doesn’t sound good. Falling implies crashing.
“Your timing will be critical,” Virra said. “The shield will only be deactivated for a few seconds. We cannot allow the Tlok’mk any opportunity to fire either the plasma cannon or their ship lasers at the unprotected planet surface. Our ships will have to pass the shield boundary between cannon bursts. We will trigger a secondary explosion here”—she indicated an area south of the original explosion—“just before the shield engages again. It should keep their sensors busy while your ships start their engines and get under way. Once past the shield, you will have microseconds to power up. Priorities will be the cloaking device and rigging for silent running. Each ship will have a unique route to the cannon. At least one ship carrying the Healers and Darkon must make it within range.”
