The Slaver Wars: First Strike (The Slaver Wars Book Four) (32 page)

“When we hit
their bases, they will know they are up against a large and advanced civilization,”
Clarissa commented as she checked on the status of all the ships in the various
fleets.

She was also
speaking to Ariel over on the Avenger. The two liked to keep each other updated
on what they were learning, especially with their new hologram images.

“From what we
know of Hocklyn history, they have very seldom had to fight against a well
organized opponent,” responded Hedon, recalling what they had learned on First
Fleet’s clandestine mission into Hocklyn controlled space so long ago.

“The only problem
is whenever they have, they call in the AIs,” Colonel Trist commented with
narrow eyes. “We can only hope that there are no AI ships close by when we
launch our attack.”

“From what we
know of the AIs, they only put in an appearance after the Hocklyns report that
they have run into an advanced civilization,” added Clarissa, folding her arms
across her ample chest.

One of the
things she had done was increase her breast size for the hologram. She felt it
made her more attractive and drew more attention. She wasn’t quite sure why,
but the males of the crew seemed much more attentive. Katie though had given
her a lecture about not going to the extreme and had limited what she could
change.

“I guess the
big question is how soon after our attack will the Hocklyns scream for help and
when will the AIs show up?” asked Colonel Trist, looking over at Clarissa and wondering
if she had any insight into this.

“Unknown,” responded
Clarissa, shaking her head. “We don’t know the capability of the AI’s jump
drive other than it is very advanced. We should have a few months at the
minimum before they can respond.”

“They will
come with a Hocklyn war fleet,” added Hedon, recalling how they had attacked
the original Human Federation of Worlds. The AIs had wiped out the Federation
fleets and then left the Hocklyns to do the dirty work of eliminating the
civilian population. “It will take them a while to gather a sufficient fleet to
drive us out of their territory.”

“Then what?”
Trist asked.

“We fall back
to New Tellus and lure them into that system’s defenses. If we can annihilate
the first attack by the AIs and the Hocklyns, we can buy the Federation some
much needed time.”

All three
became quiet as they mulled this over. This was going to be a long war, but this
time the Federation had some allies. The Hocklyns and their masters the AIs
would find this new Human Federation of Worlds to be no pushover.

Finally,
Admiral Streth turned to the other two. “All fleets have sixteen hours to make
ready for battle. We will split the fleets in the morning and set off for our individual
target systems. Our attacks will be coordinated, and we will launch our initial
assault in seventy-two hours.”

-

On Earth, President
Kincaid was meeting once more with Fleet Admiral Johnson.

“Karla, how
much longer before Admiral Streth launches his attack?”

“Another forty-eight
to seventy-two hours,” she replied. She looked down at a computer pad she was
holding in her right hand. “Admiral Streth and his fleets should have reached
the outskirts of Hocklyn controlled space by now. Our latest message from the
admiral indicated he would take a short time to retune all the drives of his
fleet before moving off to their pre-attack coordinates.”

“So this is
it,” spoke Kincaid, standing up and striding over to the large wall map, which
displayed the Federation. “We are about to be officially at war with the Hocklyn
Slave Empire.”

“We have been
at war for centuries,” the Fleet Admiral reminded him. “The Hocklyns just
didn’t know it.”

Kincaid ran
his fingers over the map. Tau Ceti, Alpha Centauri, Epsilon Eridani, 61 Cygni,
Epsilon Indi, Goombridge 1618, Procyon A, New Tellus, and Sol contained all the
heavily populated worlds of the Federation. He would be going on the air
tomorrow to announce that the Federation was now in a state of war, his words would
be broadcast to every civilized world and mining colony in the Federation. He
had a meeting later in the day with their three alien allies. They too would be
making the same announcement.

He turned back
and looked at Fleet Admiral Johnson who was standing there watching him. “So
now it begins,” he stated in a level voice, feeling the sudden weight of war upon
his shoulders.

“Now it begins
after nearly four hundred years, the Great War is finally upon us,” replied Karla,
calmly.

They both
turned to look at the wall map of the Federation. The Federation was humanity’s
last hope for survival. They would do everything in their power to make sure it
continued to exist.

High Leader
Ankler gazed out the viewport of his council shuttle as it neared Mirrin, a ten-kilometer
long artificial space habitat that belonged to his family. Ankler wondered with
growing concern if this would be the last time he returned to his home as High
Leader. In three more days, another vote would be held about the humans and notifying
the AIs. From his latest words with Nartel earlier in the day, he knew he would
lose the vote.

“Docking in
ten minutes,” a senior Protector spoke, stepping into the small stateroom of
the shuttle. The Protector had regular battle armor on but was only armed with
a high caliber pistol and a long knife in a highly decorated scabbard. “Your
wife and children are waiting.”

“Thank you,
Clyston,” responded Ankler, letting out a long rasping breath. Then, looking at
the senior Protector, he asked, “Clyston, you have been with me for nearly
twenty years, why have you stayed? There are other positions where honor could
have come far more swiftly.”

Clyston was
silent for a long moment as he thought over his answer. “It is difficult to get
a posting in one of our home systems,” he responded, his large dark eyes gazing
at the High Leader. “While it is true, due to a lack of combat, honor in the
home systems comes slowly; it is what I wanted to do.”

“You have
protected by family with honor,” Ankler responded with an acknowledging nod.
“For that I am grateful.”

“Serving you
has been an honor, and you have allowed the empire to steadily grow,” Clyston
continued. It was seldom the High Leader addressed him. “Now you have given us four
more systems to move our people to as a result of your negotiations with the
AIs. I hope to serve you for many more years to come. May you continue to serve
our people with honor.”

Ankler nodded
and watched as Clyston left, going back to the cockpit of the shuttle. He knew
that Clyston’s opinion of him might change shortly. Looking back out the viewport,
he saw the small flight bay on the end of the habitat open. The habitat was
rotating slowly to create gravity on its interior surface. Nearly 60,000 Hocklyns
lived and worked inside. Granted, due to the fact that he was High Leader, most
of the menial work was carried out by slaves with careful Hocklyn oversight.
His family was also very wealthy from their acquirement of honor over the long
years. Normally a habitat of this size would hold closer to 300,000 Hocklyns.

They were in
the Anlesh star system, whose fourth planet out was inhabited by nearly twenty
billion Hocklyns. Space around the planet was full of shipyards and other
habitats. Two massive construction docks labored twenty-four hours a day
building new ones. Each month, two new habitats would exit the massive
construction bays to be towed into their permanent orbits.

Space
freighters were constantly coming and going, bringing supplies and raw
materials from hundreds of slave worlds. This was the same in all ten of the Hocklyn
home systems, but even at this construction rate, the population growth was
outstripping their ability to build new habitats. Despite newer and stricter
population controls, the population was still growing too fast.

Each year the
demands on the numerous slave worlds grew. More food, raw materials, finished
products, and the list continued to lengthen. Some of them were beginning to
slip back into intense poverty as their populations were overworked to meet
their quotas. Extra Protectors and even military ships had been assigned to
ensure these planets continued producing what the Hocklyn worlds so desperately
needed.

The lives of
menial slaves were meaningless since others could always be brought in to work
their worlds and operate the factories. The Hocklyn Empire consisted of sixteen
thousand slave worlds with over three trillion slaves from which to pull
supplies.

Once the
shuttle was docked, Ankler stepped out to be greeted by his wife and his two
oldest sons.

“High Leader,”
his wife spoke, bowing deeply. “We are honored by your presence.” His wife was
of smaller stature and her body more supple and curved.

His sons also
bowed in respect for the position their father held.

“It is good to
be home,” responded Ankler, allowing himself to relax. “Honor has served us
well.”

“We have
prepared a feast to celebrate your homecoming,” Jaseth, his youngest son spoke.

He was in his
early twenties and was wearing gray body armor as was customary. Jaseth was
studying to be a War Leader and had already been assigned a commission as
Second Leader on a dreadnought.

His brother
Hangeth nodded his head in agreement. “It will be a good feast, father. We are
celebrating your skill in bringing us four more worlds to settle our people
on.”

“It is good,” responded
Ankler, returning the bow. “Now, let us go eat and not speak of work. This is
time for family.”

He didn’t want
to mention his growing fear. No word as of yet from War Leader Bisth. Fleet
Commodore Resmunt had sent another request only yesterday asking for more
ships. The High Council was becoming uneasy, and the next vote would require
that he notify the AIs about the humans. Once that occurred there would be a full
scale investigation by selected members of the High Council, probably led by
High Councilor Ruthan, as to where these new humans had come from.

Once that
investigation was completed, there was no doubt in Ankler’s mind that he would
be removed as High Leader and his family would suffer accordingly for the loss
of honor. Even their habitat might be taken away.

Walking down
several long corridors, they reached the interior of the artificial structure.
They stepped out on a large veranda that overlooked their home. The air was
fresh and sweet as it once had been on the home world, free of pollution and
industrial contaminates. Trees and flowing streams were everywhere. The habitat
was a literal paradise. Looking upward, he could see a few white clouds drifting
in the center of the long cylinder. Above them, he could barely make out other
buildings and structures. Inside a habitat, there was no true up or down, just
living space.

He knew that
other habitats were suffering from overcrowding. As the population in the
habitats grew there often was nowhere for the excess population to go to. Homes
built for a family of four soon found eight or more living inside. The
population pressure had been building for years, and Ankler knew that soon
something drastic would have to be done. Even the four new star systems would
not be enough. He sighed deeply, knowing that some very unpopular decisions
would soon have to be made and enforced.

“Let us go
eat,” he spoke finally as he took one last long look around. He knew that
shortly, all of this might come to an end. All because of the humans and his
ancestor that had dealt with them so long ago.

-

Fleet
Commodore Resmunt was still in his flagship, the dreadnought Liberator, weighing
his lessening options. War Leader Bisth and his fleets were gone! There was no
longer any doubt in his mind about that. His requests to the High Council for
additional fleets to guard this sector were being ignored. Yesterday, he had
sent out all of the armed scout ships he had at his disposal to scan the star
systems between Hocklyn space and presumed human space. They had instructions
not to venture further than 100 light years out. Resmunt knew the odds of detecting
an inbound human fleet were negligible, but he felt he had to do so.

“You still
think the humans are coming?” questioned First Leader Ganth, stepping over
close to the command pedestal.

“Yes, First
Leader, I do,” Resmunt responded in a cold and concerned voice. He turned and
his eyes focused on Ganth. “We attacked their worlds, or at least Bisth did. I have
spent some time studying the history of our original conflict with them. These
humans are a race of warriors, or at least their military is. They will not
allow our attack to go unpunished. They will come if only to test our resolve
and our honor.”

First Leader
Ganth nodded slowly. If they came, then the fleets they had gathered above this
planet would smite them down. Honor would come swiftly to the Liberator and her
crew. “If they come here, we will destroy them!”

“Let honor be
served,” spoke Resmunt, hoping his second in command was correct; he wasn’t
quite so certain. He feared their doctrine of honor that was so rigidly
enforced could someday be their undoing. It required sacrifices at times when
sacrifices were not necessary.

“War Leader
Osbith of the dreadnought BattleHand is requesting a meeting with you later
today.”

Resmunt shook
his head in aggravation. It was the same every day. War Leader Osbith had
arrived with one of the two reinforcing fleets. He was now officially second in
command of Resmunt’s forces in the system due to his seniority. Unfortunately,
Osbith had very little battle experience because he had come from a rear area
of the Hocklyn Empire. Commodore Resmunt was not certain how useful he would be
in an actual battle. He had additional War Leaders stationed at the other five
forward fleet bases that would have been better suited. He was tempted to call
one or two of them forward and place one of them in charge of Osbith’s fleets.

“Agreed,” responded
Resmunt, letting out a long hissing breath. His dark, wide eyes focused on
Ganth. “It will be a short meeting as I plan to return to the planet later. I
want to make a final inspection of the defenses around the spaceport.”

His eyes
turned to the large sensor screen, which showed the fleet he had gathered above
his world. There were eighty-four ships in the formation, all within the protective
gravity well of the planet. He glanced at a data screen, which showed the makeup
of his fleet. He had ten dreadnoughts, eighteen war cruisers, and fifty-six escort
cruisers.

In normal
times, he would feel confident with this force, but Bisth had taken ninety-six
ships with him and failed to return. However, he also had the heavily armed
shipyard that was floating in orbit, the defensive railgun satellites and
missile platforms, as well as the heavy weapons down on the surface around the
spaceport. Surely, if the humans came he could stop them.

Fleet
Commodore Resmunt allowed his thoughts to wander briefly. If he could defeat
the humans, then much honor would come his way, perhaps enough to even return to
the home systems and move into the hierarchy of government. He had heard that
the High Councilors lived a life of ease and luxury.

-

Hedon gazed
with growing concern at the latest data from two of his stealth scouts that had
just returned. First Fleet was floating in empty space in a small binary star
system just twelve light years from their primary target, the main Hocklyn
fleet base for this entire sector.

“They have to
be expecting us,” Colonel Trist informed the admiral after studying one of the
large tactical displays. He arched his eyebrows in dismay; it showed the planet
the large enemy fleet base was built upon. “They have gathered eighty-four
warships above the planet. Not only that, but they have a very powerful satellite
defensive grid to cover their base as well as that shipyard. How could they know
we were coming?”

“Second,
Third, Fourth, and Fifth fleets are all reporting in position and ready to
strike,” Captain Duncan reported from her communications console. FTL
transmission booster buoys had been spread out behind the fleets to allow them
quick communication with each other.

“What are they
reporting about the Hocklyn bases they are targeting?” asked Hedon, looking
over at his communications officer.

“Hocklyn
fleets at the two bases are smaller than expected,” she replied as she listened
to the additional information coming over her com system. “I am transferring
the latest data over to the tactical displays.”

Instantly, the
data currently being displayed on several of the screens was replaced with the
new information of the other two preliminary target systems.

“That’s where
the ships came from, or at least some of them,” Colonel Trist spoke as he gazed
at the fleet makeup. “There is a dreadnought missing from each fleet, and I
suspect some of the other ships were pulled from their rearward bases.”

“This is a
shrewd Fleet Commodore,” Hedon admitted as he weighed his tactical options. He
stood up and walked over to stand directly in front of the tactical display,
examining it closely. “The failure of their four attack fleets to return or
send back word of the battle must have tipped him off that something was
wrong.”

Unfortunately,
stealth scout missions had been halted once Operation First Strike was
launched. They had been concerned about tipping their hand if the Hocklyns
detected or managed to destroy one. Now it looked as if that might have been a
mistake. It seemed as if in the last ten days some major fleet movements had
occurred in their primary target system.

Looking at the
other tactical displays Hedon noticed that each of the two targeted forward
fleet bases had one dreadnought, six war cruisers, and sixteen escort cruisers
at their disposal. Second and Third Fleet were targeting one, and Fourth and Fifth
fleet were targeting the other. His fleets had a superior advantage in both firepower
and numbers. The plan could still work; he just needed to make some slight
modifications. He let out a long deep breath. This was war, a constantly
flowing and changing situation.

“We launch the
attack in four hours,” ordered Hedon after a moment. They hadn’t come this far
to pull back due to a wary Hocklyn Fleet Commodore. “Inform the other fleets
they have a go. Colonel Trist, I want to move First Fleet to this system here.”
Hedon indicated a system just 3.6 light years from their primary target. “When
our other fleets launch their attacks, I want the Hocklyns to become aware of
our presence so they won’t send reinforcements to their fleet bases.”