Time Commander (The First Admiral Series) (10 page)

However, for some of them, the avoidance of one Alliance pulsar-bolt brought them squarely into the path of another. For many, their previous good fortune ran out very swiftly. In a few moments, more than a third of the Ganthoran fighters were annihilated. Worse was about to follow.

When Parbe’an had given the Senior WATO the order to open fire, he had also instructed the Senior Engineering Officer to extend the Force Shielding of Olympus and the other Alliance vessels to their full capacity. The maximum distance an Alliance warship could deploy its Force-Shielding from the hull surface was three kilometres. As the white-hot stream of pulsar-bolts from the Self-Defence Turrets streaked away to find their Ganthoran targets, the Alliance warships disengaged their Force Shielding generators for the split-second it required for them to re-calibrate.

Half a second later, with the deadly stream of low-yield pulsar-bolts snaking outwards to hunt down more Ganthoran fighters, the Alliance warships; with their Force Shielding generators screaming at maximum output, re-initiated the defensive screen. At three thousand metres  distance, the Force Shielding would never stop a wave of Screaming Death from a Ganthoran Cruiser or Destroyer, but it would stop the weak and fragile structure of a Ganthoran Axe-Blade fighter. Admiral Parbe’an had calculated well. With a kilometre of clearance between the first volley of the Self-Defence Turrets gunfire and the wall of Force Shielding, the Ganthoran pilots who survived the first salvo, or who were behind the first ranks, would not be able to avoid the collision.

The stunned survivors of the first rank of Ganthoran fighters; many momentarily blinded by their exploding comrades around them, were too busy trying to avoid the hail of white-hot pulsar-bolts that filled their entire world in a few brief moments. Those behind the first ranks suddenly found themselves facing the horror of Alliance pulsar-bolts and running a gauntlet of debris from exploding fighters all about them as they sped forwards. Once more, the debris from exploding and damaged fighters caused damage to their neighbours compounding the destruction and devastation of the battle. And, as the Ganthoran pilots struggled to comprehend what was happening around them, to avoid the Alliance gunfire and the debris of their comrades’ fighters, they slammed, at high speed, into the Force Shielding.

Whilst the volley of fire from the Self-Defence Turrets had struck the Ganthoran fighters down randomly in their attack run, the Force Shielding struck down its victims like a rampaging bulldozer as it smashed forward into position Almost ten thousand Ganthoran Axe-Blades slammed into the invisible wall of Force Shielding. At full attack speed, the Ganthoran pilots had no chance of avoiding the deadly impact. Like explosive bullets, the Ganthoran fighters hurtled towards the invisible wall of Force Shielding oblivious to its existence. Like explosive bullets, they detonated on impact.

On the three-dimensional War Table image, Billy Caudwell saw the Ganthoran fighters race through the gauntlet of weapons fire, only to shatter themselves against Parbe’an’s Force Shielding trap. The tiny strands of Self-Defence Turret fire had torn into the Ganthoran attack, cutting the first ranks to ribbons, whilst giving the three-dimensional image the distinctive and disturbing twinkling and glittering effect.

This told Billy that large numbers of Ganthorans were falling to the weapon fire. However, when the Ganthorans hit the Force Shielding trap, the image was more of a sinister sunlight bouncing from the tops of gentle waves on a river. The orange and yellow flames of destruction were laced through with the silver and yellow of the explosion light, reflecting and refracting from the Force Shielding. The impact, being in one plane of vision, further enhanced the horrifyingly beautiful illusion on the War Table image.

The destruction of the Ganthoran fighters was not over yet. Having watched thousands of their comrades smash into the Alliance Force Shielding, many Ganthoran pilots tried to avoid the impact by climbing, diving or banking their fighters away from the exploding inferno in front of them. The great curtain of deadly flashing and exploding light that materialised before them activated the survival instincts of the Ganthoran fighter pilots. A form of controlled panic seized many, prompting violent manoeuvres to avoid this strange flashing and shimmering curtain of destruction that was being shot through by tens of thousands of Alliance pulsar-bolts. Admiral Parbe’an had still not ordered a cease-fire on the Self-Defence Turrets. Consequently, more and more disorientated, stunned and confused Ganthoran pilots were still falling to the gunfire.

For some Ganthoran pilots who had the good fortune to be on the fringes of the attack, there would be several seconds of heart-stopping terror as they applied all their might to the simple controls of their fighters. For others, the electro-magnetic drive of their Axe-Blade fighters would not respond quickly enough to the controls. For them, there was a brief and pointless struggle: of supreme exertion, and a few moments of terror before oblivion would claim them in the red-roaring flames of destruction. Such was the fate of the fighter pilot.

When it was over, and the explosion from the last destroyed attacking Axe-Blade fighter had been silenced of its echo, the surviving Ganthorans sat in horrified and dejected silence. Even the fighter controllers had fallen silent. There was just no way into this Alliance formation without massive losses.

In utter dejection, one of the few surviving Ganthoran Squadron Officers took charge of the survivors. In silence, they set a course to fly above the right flank of the Alliance position. The Officer decided to give the enemy a wide berth. They would return to the formation of Cruisers and Destroyers that had retired to the debris field after the initial bombardment of the Alliance formation. There, they would prepare to face whatever consequences befell those who disobeyed a direct attack order from the General. The confident, almost reckless Ganthoran fighter pilots who had raced into the attack only a few minutes before now crept back into their own lines; dejected and defeated. They were in no hurry to return to the harsh discipline of the Ganthoran military structure.

As they flew over the Alliance warships, a few stray pulsar-bolts zipped harmlessly past the battered and bruised survivors to speed off into the oblivion of space. Looking down on the Alliance formation, the Ganthoran pilots could see the octagonal shape of the Star-Destroyer Olympus flanked by the two Fleet Carriers, and, in front of them, the surviving Star Cruisers. The Star Cruisers were setting up a ragged volley of high-yield pulsar-bolts at the Cruisers and Destroyers hidden in the debris field of the bombardment.

With the Axe-Blade attack having failed, the Cruisers and Destroyers had opened fire again from the safety of the debris of their own comrades. It seemed to be a very half-hearted volley from the Alliance ships after the terror and violence of the Axe-Blades attack. Both sides had been badly mauled, and were in a much more weakened condition than at the outset of the battle.

The surviving Ganthoran Axe-Blade pilots stared down at the debris field, their senses numbed by the shock and horror of it all. Staring down at the remains of their comrades, the Ganthoran pilots wondered if any of them would still be alive at the end of this battle. There would likely be court-martial for many, especially the Squadron Officers. But, at least, many considered, with a court-martial, there was a small chance of survival. Facing these Alliance creatures with their guns and shielding left them with no chance of survival.

In that dejected silence, the Axe-Blade survivors limped slowly home to face whatever fate awaited them.

Whilst Third Fleet struggled for survival in the Tergus Star System, on the planet that was once called Garmauria, Senior Intelligence Officer Karap Sownus was busy with the latest political and intelligence situation reports.

Senior Intelligence Officer Karap Sownus was a creature of habit who liked certainties in his life. He was a creature who liked his universe to be simple and straightforward; right or wrong, black or white, yes or no, positive or negative. Yet, in his chosen profession, he’d had to become the master of uncertainty; of shades of grey, of illusion, of smoke and mirrors, where things were very often not what they appeared to be. It was a universe in which Karap Sownus had thrived and prospered. The Universal Alliance was his future, and also the future of his species; the Thexxian people.

Karap Sownus was what many observers would have described as a very plain and nondescript individual. At just over four feet in height, Sownus was average in height for a young male of his species. Like hundreds of thousands of other young Thexxian adults, Karap Sownus bore the scars of poor nutrition and the irregular food supply of the Exodus. These, in turn, had caused problems with their physical development through the lack of essential vitamins for bone growth and development. One of the effects was to produce a severe bowing in the bones of the lower leg. As a result, Sownus shunned the tight uniform and leg-hugging knee boots in favour of the voluminous trousers, tunic and lace up ankle boots of the enlisted crews.

Sitting in his Private Office; his Inner Sanctum, or the Holy of Holies as the irritatingly jovial Chief of Staff Marrhus Lokkrien had teasingly dubbed the brightly lit, yet very sparsely decorated office, Sownus was ploughing his way through yet more reports and Observer Activation requests. This was the inevitable administrative details that were the annoying and frustrating price of a sprawling intelligence network. It had been just over a year since a slightly nervous, but highly motivated Junior Scanner Technician (Third Class) in the Thexxian military, Karap Sownus, had volunteered and been accepted to become the Senior Intelligence Officer aboard the Universal Alliance flagship, “Aquarius”. At the very dawn and foundation of the Universal Alliance, the flagship Aquarius had been the entire military presence of the Alliance. In that year, the Universal Alliance Fleet had grown dramatically, as new varieties of species signed up their destinies and citizens to the new Alliance. The Alliance’s Intelligence Network had also grown significantly in that short space of time. This was mainly thanks to the billions of “Sleepers” installed throughout the universe by the Garmaurians prior to their ruinous civil war.

The Administrative Centre, deep in the heart of the planet itself, had now become Sownus’ second home. Not that Sownus really had a first home. With his entire family now dead; killed in the Thexxian Exodus, Sownus really had no roots or commitments to tie him to any one location. He did, however, have one commitment in life that he hoped would give him the kind of stability that he found himself desperately craving: Her name was Shula Targianen, and she was a Theatrical Stage Manager back on New Thexxia.

In his usual tongue-tied, insecure and bashful way, he had tried to strike up a stunted conversation with the most beautiful creature he had ever seen in his life. Shula, slightly concerned at the attentions of this odd, bow-legged young Alliance officer, had done her best to ignore Sownus. That had been almost a year previously, and as was the way of most things Thexxian, the formal courtship would take several more years before Sownus could consider a “Bonding”.

To his credit, Sownus, however, made sure that his romantic attachments did not interfere with his duties. Karap Sownus considered himself scrupulously fair in his professional endeavours. Shula kept her private and professional life separate, so he should be able to do the same. As he thought about Shula, he dragged his mind back to the situation on the Tergus Star System. The last report he had sent to First Admiral Caudwell, with First Fleet, was that there was a dangerous build up of Ganthoran forces in the area. The pattern had been apparent for many weeks now. However, First Admiral Caudwell had still insisted on leaving Third Fleet badly exposed around the planet of Tergus. Sownus hoped that the First Admiral wasn’t making a terrible mistake.

It was the job of the Senior Intelligence Officer to provide as much relevant information as possible for the First Admiral to make big decisions. Yet, with the Tergus System situation, the First Admiral seemed to be going against all the indications and advice that Sownus’ Intelligence Command was sending him.
Well, the First Admiral must know what he’s doing
, Sownus considered, but it did seem that he was taking a tremendous risk. The decision and judgement of the First Admiral made those decisions.

That, after all, was what First Admirals were paid to do.

“Hello?” Billy Caudwell stared intently at the three-dimensional image on the War Table. “And, what do we have here then?”

Billy zoomed in on a small formation of vessels approaching the right flank of the Ganthoran “Six-Cigar” Carriers.

A group of thirty vessels, in a ragged cluster formation, snapped into sharp focus. Billy recognised the vessels immediately as Universal Alliance Ranger-Class Long-Range Patrol vessels. The short, squat Ranger was used to patrol the isolated and desolate frontiers of the Universal Alliance, and looked very similar to toads back on Earth. With a crew of twenty, the Ranger patrolled out in the inhospitable wastes of the Alliances’ ever expanding frontiers; maintaining as much law, order, and political control over the areas as their lightly-armed vessels could muster.

Not specifically designed as a combat vessel, the Ranger did have Force Shielding and a Trion Drive, but was burdened with a badly underpowered engine capacity, two medium-yield and six low–yield pulsar cannon. In terms of combat effectiveness, the Ranger was very poorly equipped. Designed for long range patrol, the original Garmaurian designers had considered that the Ranger was going to be doing nothing more dangerous than chasing off joy-riders, and dealing with angry mobs of poorly-armed, protesting colonists. Scraping together any, and every, vessel that could carry a pulsar-cannon, Parbe’an was using the battle in front of his formation to draw attention away from this ragged group of Rangers. The Trionic Cannon aboard Olympus were still being effective in cutting down the Ganthoran vessels on the flanks of the main enemy formation.