Birthright: Battle for the Confederation- Turmoil (12 page)

Captain Elco stood
by the Freedom class transport on the tarmac as the ship's engines slowly
spooled to life.  It was a crisp, clear evening, the kind of weather Elco
savored.  The skies were clear and the stars shone bright, the temperature had
dropped just enough that a light jacket was in order, and for such a big
military base it was surprisingly quiet.

The base, just on
the outskirts of the capitol, was the operations center for the Lemurian
planetary defense network and as such Elco and General Horle had ended their
evening with a brief tour of the facility to see what was in orbit.  Satisfied
that the skies were clear, they'd decided to call it a night and were now
standing in front of the transport that would take Elco back to Avenger.

"Once again,
Captain," Horle said as he extended his hand for Elco to shake,
"thank you for your time here."

Elco shook the
proffered hand.  "Maybe you could arrange to get us invited back some time
when this whole pesky Priman infestation is sorted out," he replied. 
"Those hills outside of town are begging for me to do some camping
there."

"Hah,"
Horle chuckled.  "I've done the same.  Perhaps someday we can burn up some
fallen trees and tell tall tales around the campfire of the heroics we've
done."

"Deal,"
Elco replied enthusiastically.

At that moment a
runner came rushing up to the general.  The poor man had been sprinting and had
to take an awkward pause to catch his breath as the General waited.

"Sir," the
young soldier began, sucking in air through his teeth and swallowing twice as
he bent over and braced his hands on his knees.  "They're here!  The
Primans have arrived."

General Horle spun
to face Captain Elco.  "Captain," he began, "if they're on the
way in, you'll never make it past them.  You're welcome to stand with me in our
control bunker underneath this base."

"Lead the way,
General," Elco replied.

"It is as we
expected, Captain," Representative Ravine purred from wher she stood
beside his command chair on the Scythe's bridge.  She was referring to the
sensor data scrolling across the large screens at the front of the bridge which
showed a plethora of information about the system.   She saw everything from
the six Lemurian destroyers, parked submissively with their weapons cold, to
the tracks of all inbound and outbound traffic, to communications and data
streams, to the constellation of Confederation satellites that they had passed
on the way into the system.  She also saw the dozen combat-tested heavy
cruisers of Captain Vol's task force spread out in a three dimensional skirmish
line as they approached the planet; three rows of four ships each stacked on
top of each other, with the center of the wall of ships leading just enough to
give the wall a slight cone shape.  It allowed maximum sensor and weapons
coverage for the formation but allowed them to break off and maneuver if
necessary.  "They are waiting for us to make the first move, and their
Confederation partners are nowhere to be seen."

"For now,
Representative, they are not present," Captain Vol corrected.  "I would
be very interested to hear from the Lemurian leaders what excuses they have for
the Confederation involvement."  Captain Vol shifted in his seat as he
contemplated his plan.  Here under the bright lights of the spacious bridge,
any indecision or weakness was readily apparent, especially considering the
Representative who stood at his side.  Taking too long to contemplate his
actions always had the potential to be seen as weakness or indecision.

"Communications,"
Captain Vol said to the officer at the appropriate console.  She turned to him;
her smooth Priman face, lacking a prominent nose, eyebrows, even her receding
chin, were attractive to him, though he had no idea what a Human, Drisk, or
Qualin would think.   He didn't much care, of course, since they were inferior
species and couldn't be counted on to judge such things properly.

"Find me their
leader, governor, president, whatever the being in charge calls him or
herself."

"Yes,
Captain," came the quick reply.  The Primans' skills with communications
being what they were, it only took her a second to trace enough important
communications back to the source; the Governor's Mansion.

Chapter Six

"Governor,"
an aide whispered nervously to him where he sat in the comfortable chair behind
his enormous desk.  The leather of his chair creaked as the man let the chair
return to its upright position from the slightly reclined posture he'd been in
and turned to face his staffer.  "The Primans are on the comms asking to
speak to whomever's in charge.  They sent the signal directly to this
building."

"Comforting to
know they can find us easily enough," he muttered.  "Thank you; I'll
take it here.  You may wait outside."

Governor Broadbent
waited for his aide to leave, then looked at the faces around him.  The entire
Council was there in person, a rare occasion that only underscored the severity
of the situation.  Whether they all wanted to have the chance to get their face
time with the Primans or just be there to see Broadbent submit was anyone's
guess.  He also looked at a monitor on the wall and seen the face of General
Horle.  The governor had insisted on a feed for his military forces so they
would be in the loop instantly and not have to get the information filtered
through another source.  The look on Horle's face said it all; the man looked
like he was on death row and was simply waiting for someone to throw the
switch.  He didn't show the calm that came with the acceptance of death; he
showed the anger of someone who still believed there was a chance.  Broadbent on
the other hand no longer believed there was a chance for his people.

He tapped the
desktop where the touchpads for various functions were located, and the
incoming comm request came through holographically on his desktop projector. 
It was his first time seeing a real live Priman; he'd seen combat footage,
mostly from ground campaigns and the occasional KIA, but this was different. 
The enemy carried himself well, with a haughtiness that indicated he was used
to commanding and receiving what he wanted.

"Priman
commander," the governor began, "I am Governor Broadbent.  On behalf
of the Council and independent people of Lemuria, I greet you as a neutral
party."

"Governor
Broadbent," the Priman replied, saying them a little slower than someone
who spoke the language natively would.  It seemed like he was rolling the words
in his mouth, making an effort to be sure they came out unaccented and correct-
no room for misinterpretation.  "I am Captain Vol, and I command the ships
in orbit above your planet.  I am here to accept your surrender to my forces
and in turn the Commander of the Priman military."

The governor licked
his lips quickly, for they had gone bone dry.  He suddenly wished for a gallon
of water, for it felt like his throat was made of sandpaper and every breath
was an exercise of willing himself to not devolve into a fit of coughing.  He'd
been speaking publicly for a long time now, but this captain had him on the
defensive from the very beginning.

"Captain
Vol," Broadbent continued with a great effort, atempting a disarming
smile, "I would like to make you an offer of neutrality."  He spoke
quickly in the hopes that the Priman wouldn't interrupt him.   Every time he
took a breath he did it as quickly as possible.  "This planet has existed
for over two centuries as an independent, neutral world, even while in the
vicinity of three major powers.  We have been reasonably prosperous while
keeping to ourselves and threatening no one.  We have a number of highly
valuable exports that perhaps might interest you-"

"You seem to
think I came here to negotiate," the Priman interrupted.  He let that hang
in the air for a handful of seconds, enough to let the governor become
increasingly nervous.  When he could practically hear the man's raging
heartbeat, Captain Vol continued.  "We are here, at this planet in
particular and this galaxy in general, to reclaim what was once ours.  This
galaxy was ours.  That planet you're living on was ours.  And to my people, we
still consider all of these things ours; you are just lesser beings trespassing
on our property.  We are not here to negotiate, sign treaties, or become
friends.  The Confederation of Systems, the Talaran Collection, and the
Enkarran Empire so far have fallen or been reduced to insignificance in our campaign. 
What makes you think you are any more special than these major powers?" 
Captain Vol was off script a bit now, but he had made a decision.  Too many
planets had greeted him with this same sorry line about how they weren't any
threat and he should just let them have a pass.  Apparently these people felt
they had some sort of leverage or bargaining position on him, but that was in
no way the case; this planet would belong to the Primans today.

"Before I make
any decisions on what to do to your people," Captain Vol continued, still
ramping up, "I want an explanation of all the Confederation activity we've
noticed."  He saw with satisfaction the governor's eyes bulge just the
slightest bit; the man had a fairly effective control over his emotions, but it
was all too obvious that he'd been caught by surprise.  "In addition to
the Confed surveillance satellites we've found in-system, there is also the
fact of two Confederation warships that left not long before we arrived.  What
were they doing here?"

Broadbent thought
quickly, and realized the Primans only thought there were two Confed ships. 
They had been on the outskirts of the system; had the Primans seen it on the
way in, or had they focused on watching Avenger and the battleship heave to and
depart?  No matter, since he still hoped for a peaceful resolution and didn't
want the resulting bloodbath that a full-on confrontation would bring. 
"The Confederation vessels arrived here several days ago," Broadbent
began, not sure exactly of how much the Primans knew.  He knew, though, that
the best lies had as much truth as possible in them, so he intended to work in
as much as he could.  "They said they were here on a diplomatic mission to
see if we would like to join the Confederation.  As you can see, we turned
their offer down.  As I've said, we've remained unaligned for a long time and
saw no such reason to change that now, even with you here."

"And so you
would have me believe they just left?" Captain Vol asked.

"I doubt you
would take my word for it," Broadbent dared say, "but I assume you
can scan the area around here and especially on the planet.  There are no
ships, troops, or the like under our banner; we still believe there is a way to
coexist with your people."

This governor's
attitude was shocking to Vol.  He'd seen outright fear, anger, and deception,
but this man really believed he had room to dictate measures to the Primans.  A
lesson was in order.  First, he looked across the bridge to the sensor officer,
who understood the meaning and began another sweep of the planet and near-space
for Confed emissions.

"Governor
Broadbent," Captain Vol continued.  "How do you explain the wave of
Confederation transports that are swarming around your planet?"

Governor Broadbent's
face blanched as the Priman finally made the accusation he'd been dreading. 
He'd hoped that since the Primans hadn't said anything about them that either
they didn't care or weren't troubled by it, but apparently an explanation was
going to be needed.  He gathered himself,  hoping he could pull off one more
great story and help some more of his people escape.  "We've leased them
from the Confederation, Captain," Broadbent began.  "My people were
understandably nervous about being within a contested war zone, and I won't lie
and say that everyone was just happy to wait out whatever you and everyone else
are going to do to each other.  We arranged transport off-planet for those that
wanted to relocate temporarily.  These ships are working for us, not under
Confederation control."

Captain Vol's
decision was now made, no doubts or regrets.  It was just a simple matter of
seeing what these people would say as they plead for their lives.  "And
you believed that, even though you claim to be neutral and wish to coexist on
your own terms with us, we would not find it objectionable that you were in any
sort of relationship with the powers we are in the process of crushing?" 
Vol was angry now, and everyone could see it.  His knuckles were draining of
blood, going white as he gripped the armrests of his chair tighter and
tighter.  "You think that I would let any of you leave this planet?  You
are under my control, and I carry out the wishes of the Priman Commander.  And
do you know what bargains the Commander has authorized me to strike?"  Vol
didn't wait for an answer.  "None.  There are no bargains, Drisk, only
terms, and here they are.  One.  You will power down and store all military
equipment, including those transports that are even now trying to escape your
atmosphere.  I am warning you; I will have them destroyed if they try to flee. 
Two.  You will turn over all phases of administration of your planet to me.  In
short order another force will come to take control on the surface.  Until
then, everything on your planet, from food to technology, will belong to me. 
Three.  Your people will all register and be accounted for, and will prepare
for relocation to a place or facility of my choosing.  By the time my ground
forces land, you will have this plan ready to put into action.  Now, is there any
ambiguity to my statement, or am I perfectly clear?"  Vol leaned back into
his chair and tried to calm himself down a bit.  He knew he'd let himself get
more worked up than he should have, but these damned humanoids kept getting it
in their head that they had something to bargain with, and they most certainly
did not. 

"And what if I
cannot convince all my people to cooperate?" asked Broadbent softly. 
Captain Vol couldn't entirely tell if the statement was made out of real
concern that this governor person couldn't make it happen or if he was trying
one last time to be defiant.  Either way, he'd made his decision minutes ago. 

Captain Vol turned
to the weapons officer.  "Standard procedure," he barked. 
"Level the capitol building and the area immediately around it."

Streams of light
erupted from the dozen Priman warships, cascading down through the atmosphere
and converging in waves on the capitol of Lemuria.

Aboard the Stalwart
class transport
Lead Sled
, Lieutenant Elon Sent-Kai turned to his
co-pilot in alarm.  "Look at the sensors!" he  commanded.  "The
damn Primans just pounded the capitol down to the bedrock!"

"I see,"
the co-pilot said calmly.  Ensign Merrin Page was a Drisk, and while not from
Lemuria, she understood why her fellows would establish an independent world
and then stubbornly refuse to just give it up.  She looked at the sensor
displays on the panel  in front of her as she made a course adjustment,
watching through the viewport ahead as holographic waypoints and other vital
information was displayed for her to take in.

She liked Lieutenant
Sent-Kai, even if the Qualin was a bit excitable.  He was smart, a good
teacher, and when not pulling Reserve duty flying old transports was a
successful business owner, which probably explained his managerial skills.  She
had a feeling that dealing with him in a business environment could be
stressful, though.

"I'm making
another course adjustment," she announced as she pushed the throttles
against the stops with her left hand again.  Still at max power, no hidden
reserves or extra engine she could light off.  They were going painfully slow
considering what was going on.

"All transports
fleeing Lemuria are to heave to and broadcast your positions," they heard
the voice over the comms for the second time.  Those Primans were good with
sensors and comm equipment, nobody would argue that one.  They simply blanketed
every comm frequency so nobody could claim that didn't receive the message. 
"Final warning.  Anyone not complying will be destroyed."

Elon looked at
Merrin, and she was unable to get a read on what he was thinking.  "We're
the farthest out, almost clear," he mumbled.  "Are you a betting
woman, Merrin?" he asked.  "Do you think they'd really destroy a
transport full of five thousand innocent refugees?" He looked out the
viewport at the distant Priman ships far off to port.  "They can't be in
effective weapons range of us, can they?"

"The bet is
whether they'd fire on us, not whether they'd hit," Merrin chuckled
grimly.  "You realize if we turn back, all these people, not to mention
us, are going to be interred and conscripted into forced labor until they
decide to exile us to space for a slow death aboard some decrepit old
vessel."

Elon only nodded. 
Years of business dealings with cut-throat companies and ruthless entrepreneurs
couldn't prepare him for this, though.  He knew those people didn't really
intend to kill him on the spot.  These Primans might.  He was waiting, just
hoping for some sort of sign that would make the decision for him, because this
was a choice he just wasn't prepared to make on behalf of everybody in the back
of the ship who had entrusted their lives to him. 

Then, somebody did
make a decision. 

"They're
running for it!" exclaimed Merrin as she pointed out her viewport at the
little blip on the cockpit
’
s
windshield glass.  Highlighted and augmented by a wireframe drawing, the
holographic ship that was dodging around space was identified as another
Stalwart class transport. 

"Let's do the
same," Elon said firmly.

"Got it."

Merrin couldn't
boost the power, but she could change course, and angled away from the Primans
and back toward the very upper reaches up Lemuria's atmosphere.  While the heat
generated from passage through the remnants of the wispy air up there might help
highlight them on scanners, the changing density of the atmosphere itself would
make targeting and hitting them much harder than just firing an energy bolt in
open, empty space.  And if she did it right, they'd bounce off and away farther
from the inbound Priman ships with a little extra speed on their side.