Star Clusters: New Arrivals (11 page)

Chapter 8

The Gambit

D’fal Woren carefully monitored the status displays; sixteen hours before Poteran’s planned arrival, they had just reached the Petran system and were cleared to dock at the orbital shipyards near Hemreus. While the Ivory Eagle dropped out of hyperspace at Aphis, heading into the Arcamil’s trap, Woren nervously analyzed everything, trying to find a sign - anything that would tell him if their trick had worked. His ship, the light cruiser Klern, gently moved into position. The die was cast.

“No hostile activity, sir,” the Klern’s tactical officer reported. “If they’re on to us, they’re waiting for something.”

“I suppose we’ll have to wait, then. You all know your orders; carry them out, but don’t risk getting caught until the attack begins.”

The docking arms extended from the shipyard, grabbing the Klern and blending seamlessly with its hull. What damage it had taken during the battle for Lieproi started to regenerate more rapidly; instead of having to rely on cannibalizing less important sections and any usable matter that may have clung to the hull, the ship could draw upon the station’s reserves to repair itself until it was once again in perfect condition. The rest of Woren’s small group had already docked with other shipyards and were also being repaired and refueled in the small planet’s shadow. In the vicinity, the Petrans were already hard at work rebuilding their hyperspace disruptor, but as Woren had hoped, there was but a token defense force - similar to the Terran militias - protecting their homeworld from hostile forces. True, this fleet was also aided by the heavy weapons platforms orbiting Petra and Hemreus, but if the plan worked, those would not be a problem.

Everyone in the fleet would do their best to get into positions from where they could sabotage key military assets such as the larger warships, Petra’s weapon platforms, vital military bases throughout Petra, and most importantly, the defenses around Poteran’s primary targets: one of the broadcast towers for the Petran news network, and the High Council chambers themselves. If too many operations failed, Poteran would jump into a deathtrap.

Woren went into the nearest turbolift, heading towards one of the docking arms to disembark; once at the dock, he hoped to board one of the shuttles leaving for Petra. To his great relief, nobody tried to stop him, much less arrest him, and an hour later, his shuttle landed safely in the starport of Petra’s capital city, Melraas. A metropolis dwarfing even the largest cities on Earth, Melraas owed its size to the landscape as much as modern technology. Being situated on the largest island on the planet, the city had more space to expand before growing into the ocean, at which point the Petrans’ advanced construction methods took over. The greatest testament to their ability to build aquatic cities - both above and below the surface - was that Melraas’ aquatic section was
larger
than the land-based one.

As he disembarked from the shuttle, Woren was intercepted by a Petran lieutenant. “Captain Woren?” he inquired.

“Yes,” Woren answered confusedly.

“I’m Lieutenant Bant - Admiral Jelon wants to debrief you personally.”

This wasn’t part of the plan, but at least there were no armed guards. There was still hope. “I see. After you, Lieutenant.”

Woren followed the young officer towards the old Imperial Palace overlooking the rest of the island. The Palace had been reconstructed several times throughout its long existence, most recently using Petran crystals as a replacement for the various materials previously used in its design, but it was still clear to anyone who looked at it that the building had a rich and important past. Indeed, it had been home to generations of Petran emperors since the Petran people were first united during the reign of Emperor Pelaros more than half a millennium ago. Though the last Emperor died without selecting his successor nearly two hundred years ago, the Petrans still referred to themselves as an empire. The institution now known as the Petran High Council was originally an advisory body, but when none of the people who could have taken the throne felt they were worthy of the title, power passed down to the Council.

It was this magnificient structure that the entire Petran government - and the command structure of their army - were centered at, so it was no surprise that Admiral Jelon’s office was also located within. Woren and Bant navigated the building’s complex layout until they finally reached the office.

Both of them entered the office. “Ah, good,” Jelon said, “you’re here. Lieutenant, you’re dismissed.” After Jelon said that, the Petran lieutenant quickly exited the room, leaving Woren and Jelon alone. “I have to hand it to you, Captain - that was a pretty dangerous situation you got out of.”

“Yes, sir. It was. Frankly, if we hadn’t been attacked by Poteran’s forces first, we’d never have gotten out of there - the poor fool got caught between us and the Xargans.”

The admiral stared at him. “Really? That’s not what I heard. You’ve made a terrible mistake, Woren, and it’s time to pay the price,” he said.

One of the larger objects in the area transformed into a Xargan.

*** Bridge of the I.P.S. Hippasrus, one hour later ***

“Sir, we’re receiving an encrypted transmission from Petra,” the communications officer reported. “Audio only - it’s Captain Woren.”

Surprise and concern were clearly visible on the captain’s face as he turned towards the young lieutenant. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Put it through.”

“Poteran, we’ve been spotted! My forces are taking heavy fire - if we even created a window of opportunity, you have to take advantage of it
now!
You were right about the Xargans; Jelon’s one of them, I barely got out of his office when he attacked me.”

The transmission ended there. “Helm, how soon can we reach Petra at maximum speed?”

The fleet had been lying in wait near the Petran system for some time now, just outside the Petrans’ sensor range. “Fifteen minutes, sir,” the helmsman reported.

“Should I signal the fleet?” the communications officer asked.

“Yes - take all ships into hyperspace, maximum speed towards Petra. Prepare all drop pods for insertion into Melraas. We
have
to win this fight.”

The entire fleet jumped into hyperspace; fifteen minutes later, they emerged into a low orbit above Melraas, raining drop pods towards their mission objectives. “Kellas, I don’t think we can do anything here anymore,” Rotgen said as their assault shuttles raced to the surface. “We should jump to Hemreus, try to save Woren’s fleet instead of sitting here and getting shot at by the orbital defenses.”

“Won’t they start firing at our forces if we do that?” Boller asked.

“No, Jalno’s right. They won’t bombard the city from orbit because of the collateral damage. All ships, jump to Hemreus as soon as possible.”

Down on the surface, a sizable portion of the reinforced crystalline drop pods crashed into a park near a military base not far from the targeted broadcasting station. Each of the pods formed several legs, raising themselves out of the holes they made in the ground, then opened, revealing squads of Petran soldiers as well as vehicles. Unfortunately, though the Petrans could just as easily drop entire command centers in this fashion, there was no suitable location to make such an insertion at; Poteran’s troops would have to make do with the equipment they brought with themselves and anything they could capture. Loyalist forces opened fire from several sides, pinning Poteran’s men down.

Suddenly, the loyalists blocking the path towards the base were attacked from behind. Within minutes, the street was cleared, and Poteran’s forces hurriedly withdrew from the park, meeting up with their rescuers. “I’m sure Captain Woren’ll appreciate your coming here so soon,” their leader said, “but you’ve walked right into a trap. The broadcast tower you’re trying to hit’s
heavily
fortified, and more reinforcements are on the way. I’m Major Lurvat, and I think we have a common ally.”

“Major, I didn’t expect to see any backup here. What’s going on?”

“It’s a long story, but all that matters right now is that you’re not alone. We’ve managed to take control of the base nearby; with your help, the equipment there should be enough to take the tower and maybe even push through to the Palace.”

Meanwhile, the Klern and its fleet were being boarded by loyalist security teams as Poteran’s ships approached Hemreus. The orbital weapons platforms turned towards the incoming fleet, opening fire while loyalist ships emerged from the shipyards and assumed an offensive formation.

“What are they doing?” Boller asked. “They don’t have the firepower for this maneuver!”

“The Xargans don’t care; besides, those weapons platforms are the
real
threat here,” Poteran answered. “It doesn’t look like we can do much for Woren’s fleet, though. All ships, fall back. Execute micro-hyperspace jump back towards Petra, duration one second, distance thirty light seconds. Let’s see if they’re dumb enough to follow us out of the platforms’ range…”

“As much as I admire your choice of tactics, Kellas,” Rotgen said as the fleet turned around and executed the jump, “what are we supposed to do if they go after us? We can’t just blow up a perfectly good fleet in this situation.”

“One problem at a time, Jalno,” he objected. As Rotgen feared, the Hemrean defenders pursued, making a similar hyperspace jump to find themselves just outside firing range of the fleet. “All craft, target the enemy flagship; aim to disable.” The two groups moved into firing range of each other. “Fire.”

A concentrated volley quickly pierced the flagship’s shields; much to Poteran’s dismay, the ship was obliterated. “I said ‘disable’!” he said; the loyalists were taken aback by the ease with which the attack had been executed, and stopped.

“There were just too many of us, sir.”

Poteran sighed. “Open a channel to the enemy fleet,” he finally decided.

“Channel open, sir.”

“Loyalist fleet, this is Captain Poteran of the Hippasrus. We’re not here to kill you; attacking us on your own would achieve nothing other than wasting lives and ships, which is exactly what the Xargans want,” he explained. “If you really
must
attack, then at least wait for your reinforcements to arrive. Even if we aren’t gone by then, there should be fewer casualties, which would give the survivors a fighting chance.”

It was a welcome change of pace when they did as he asked. Unfortunately, mere moments after that, the opening of hyperspace windows signaled the arrival of the loyalists’ reinforcements. “You just had to say that, didn’t you…” Rotgen commented as the new arrivals moved into an attack formation.

Poteran frowned. “I didn’t think they’d be here so soon.”

“Well, they’re here now, and it doesn’t look like we’ll be able to hold them off long enough…”

“We have to try,” Poteran answered. “All ships, engage the enemy - try to minimize casualties on both sides.” The two fleets dissolved into the typical chaos of a space battle; as was the case with the last one, the outcome of this confrontation near Petra would likely decide the fate of the known galaxy.

In the meantime, Rear Admiral Jackson took a sip of his coffee.

The Orion would reach the Centauri wormhole soon, but until then, the admiral had more free time than he could handle; it had been quite some time since he last had any meaningful amount of it. Part of him hoped he could resume his normal duties soon, while another part was trying to figure out what to do while he waited.

As the ship slid silently through hyperspace, its deposed captain - a stranger to Jackson, though he understood that no single officer knew everyone in the Navy, so this was nothing unusual - entered the room. “Sir,” he started with an uncharacteristic amount of respect, “you don’t have to go to Earth.”

Jackson put down his cup. “What are you suggesting, Captain?” he asked suspiciously.

“We have just received a transmission - somebody found proof of your innocence.”

The admiral turned towards him, still in his chair. “Really? Or was it handed to them on a silver platter?” he said, pausing to let the confused officer pick up on his thoughts. “I’ve had a lot of time to think. About what you said, and about what it meant. I don’t know who your masters serve or who they even are, but I know what they’ve done.”

Suddenly, the expression on the younger man’s face changed from a baffled one to a curious, almost challenging one. “What, then? What have they done?”

“Falsified reports of rebellion. Sabotaged the Menlon militia’s ships. Attacked Cartha. Framed me. What I can’t figure out, though, is why you’ve done any of it. I thought you were with the Xargans, but if that’s the case, then why let me go free?”

“You’re not as alone as you may have thought, Admiral,” the captain said. “But for now, we must remain a mystery to you. You should go to Aphis - should its fuel production be impaired, the war effort would be significantly weakened.”

“No argument there. Let’s not keep the Aphians waiting...

******

“Major, we’re pinned down! They just won’t move!”

“Keep fighting. My reinforcements should be here shortly,” Lurvat said.

“If they don’t, there won’t be much left to reinforce! Everybody, target that tank!”