“Lead enemy ships now within range of the defense stations,” the tactical station reported.
“Engage with missiles then follow up with energy weapons,” she ordered although the tone of her voice indicated she knew the effort to be futile. There only hope now was to take out as many enemy ships as possible in order to improve the odds for the next target. She knew that Tortanathut had been lost and she wanted nothing more than to cry for the people that would soon die. But she was a military commander and such emotions would be unbecoming of a person in her position.
Although the order had arrived some time ago there had been insufficient time for Tortanathut to modify their defense stations to fire huge volleys of missiles. The planet did not have the expertise nor the equipment to make the required changes to the missile launchers. Instead, the defense stations emptied their entire arsenal of missiles much like Proquindabo had done.
The Chroniech fleet advancing on the planet was significantly larger than the one that had attacked Proquindabo and virtually all of the missiles were picked off by the fleet’s anti-missile defense system. Two ships were hit: One was damaged; the other destroyed. But the missiles were only the first line of defense available to the Alliance.
During the long extended battle of Almaranus fifteen years ago the Chroniech had kept their distance from the defense stations. Their strategy then was to pick the stations off one by one from just within weapons range using the massed firepower of their fleet. This battle was different. The Chroniech fleet was much larger and far better equipped. They marched into the system with a single goal and they were not going to slow down in order to accomplish it.
The giant energy cannons, some enhanced with Kyrra antimatter converters, joined the battle. The tactical computers aboard the defense stations along with those of the military base had analyzed the defensive capabilities of the various Chroniech ships and had used their combined computing power to devise a defense plan. The odds of winning were minuscule but a great deal of damage could be done.
The defense stations divided themselves up into groups of three and combined their terrific firepower in order to breach the defense shield of the selected target. When possible, the more powerful Chroniech master battleships, which presented the greatest threat, were targeted first. The Chroniech, knowing the threat presented by the defense stations, had arranged their fleet to take out as many of the stations as quickly as possible. Both sides fired nearly simultaneously.
Beams of concentrated energy crisscrossed space and impacted on shields. The shields of both combatants attempted with all their power to dissipate the energies directed against them. Huge ghostly streamers of plasma erupted into space. The amount of energy packed into such a tiny space caused Einstein’s famous equation to run in reverse creating mass from energy. The deflected energy was thrown back into space in all wavelengths from infrared to x-ray.
On the planet, the population paused in their exodus to watch a spectacular light show in the sky. Even on the daylight side of the planet the bright pinpricks of light from the straining shields could be seen. Those on the night side could actually see some of the FTL boosted energy beams through binoculars. At first there were cheers but the joy was short lived as the people began to realize that death was on their doorstep. Many forced their eyes away from the heavens and concentrated on moving deeper into the wilderness.
As good as the Alliance strategy was and as powerful as their weapons were, the Chroniech had the advantage of superior firepower and greater numbers. The Chroniech super weapon tore through the Alliance shields with little difficulty. Armor presented hardly any resistance. The defense stations, however, were tough to completely kill. Multiple backup systems in the heavily automated stations were designed to withstand severe punishment. The Chroniech were forced to hit them again and again before their guns were silenced.
The battle lasted seventeen minutes. When the weapons were quiet all that remained of Tortanathut’s final defenses were clouds of glowing, ionized gas mixed with larger pieces of what could barely be recognized as something built by intelligent hands. Most of what remained was melted into oddly shaped forms that would drift aimlessly in space until they plummeted into Tortanathut’s atmosphere.
But the stations had not gone down without a fight. They had taken a serious toll on the Chroniech fleet. Twelve master battleships had been destroyed along with 22 other heavy warships. Fifteen others had been damaged but were still operational. The remaining ships turned their attention to their main objective – Tortanathut – which now stood naked and undefended before them.
The Chroniech had not forgotten about the military base on Tortanathut’s moon. It was not their main target and since it was not a threat it could safely be ignored. Unlike Proquindabo, Tortanathut was a world that could support a thriving Chroniech colony. It would have been a shame to render such a useful world unusable by dropping nuclear weapons all over its surface. The fleet settled into low orbit and turned their beam weapons toward the planet.
Anyone who has ever been in a thunderstorm and experienced the power of a lightning bolt at close range just might be able to imagine what happens when an energy beam from space comes crashing through the atmosphere. A single energy beam from a Chroniech master battleship was hundreds of times more powerful than the most powerful lightning bolt ever witnessed. Its passage through the atmosphere superheated the air generating a thunderclap strong enough to blow out windows and collapse poorly built structures. The vacuum it left in its wake created a secondary thunderclap that could be heard and felt for many kilometers.
Only partially attenuated by its passage through the atmosphere, the super weapon did as much damage as a small nuclear bomb when it struck the surface. Buildings exploded as the air inside was heated to thousands of degrees. Everything flammable burst into flames within a kilometer of the beam. Concrete shattered and exploded. Steel vaporized and melted. People, those who had ignored the evacuation order or were unable to leave, simply ceased to exist.
Those unfortunate enough not to be instantly killed were horribly burned. The energy beam caused the air surrounding it to be heated to a temperature higher than the surface of the sun. Those too close had the skin literally burned off their bones. Farther away it blistered the skin and burned off hair. Secondary radiation painlessly permeated their bodies destroying DNA and tissue as if the person had been standing inside a microwave oven.
For an hour, the Chroniech leisurely allowed their beams to wander over the once great cities of Tortanathut. When the thunder stopped the planet was dotted with hundreds of glowing pools of molten rock. The cities and towns of Tortanathut were gone. But the Chroniech were not yet done. Powerful sensors scanned the surface looking for survivors. Probes cruised through the atmosphere allowing the orbiting ships to target even individuals.
The Chroniech spent six hours picking off the survivors. Only a very few managed to survive and they would soon find life to be very difficult indeed. To ensure total extermination, the Chroniech placed 25 automated killing machines into orbit. These devices would relentlessly watch for any signs of intelligent life struggling to survive and would take action to eliminate them. On the way out of the system the military base was obliterated almost as an afterthought.
Base commander Forstiba had helplessly watched as the Chroniech calmly wiped out the entire population of a once bustling planet. The images had been transmitted to Sector Command up until the very last. She died knowing that the Alliance would know of the atrocity committed at Tortanathut. She also knew that her defiance of the Planetary Governor’s order not to broadcast a warning had allowed over 18,000 people to leave the planet. Several hundred ships were now being escorted into Alliance space by the ships that had been sent to reinforce the defense force.
Desperation
After seeing the fate that had befallen Tortanathut, Ken could no longer stand to sit by while the battle raged. The fall of two other Alliance worlds only made matters worse. He was in command of a fleet of warships the equal of anything the Chroniech could put into space. But instead of hunting the enemy he was ferrying Commodore Scarboro back to Almaranus. Scarboro noted Stricklen’s mood and correctly guessed its cause.
Doug found Stricklen standing next to the stardrive as if he could will it to move the ship faster. The massive machine quietly hummed and vibrated with a deep harmonically induced thrumming sound as it consumed the vast amounts of energy being pumped into it. The Hess stardrive had served them well even though it was thousands of years old.
“Captain Stricklen!” Doug formally announced his presence.
Stricklen kept his eyes on the unmoving surface of the stardrive as he replied, “Yes Commodore Scarboro?”
“Small change of plans,” Doug said causing Ken’s head to turn toward him. “We are to alter course slightly to intercept the
Biac N’kbri
. She’s a Mishpa class interceptor. I will transfer over and you can begin your hunt.”
Ken’s face broke into a smile that practically oozed anticipation. “I will give the order immediately. How long before we intercept?”
“About three hours if we alter course now.”
Ken didn’t bother making the trip to the bridge but instead gave the order via his wristcom. Three hours later the fleet dropped out of stardrive and matched velocities with the
Biac N’kbri
. Twenty minutes later the fleet, minus Doug Scarboro, was headed back toward the edge of Chroniech space. Stricklen scanned the latest reports of Chroniech fleet movements and selected an appropriate target. The wolf pack was on the hunt.
* * * * *
Captain Zatch had given a great deal of thought to how he was going to get the
Komodo Dragon
to come to him. It took him nearly three days to come up with a viable plan. Attempting to contact an enemy ship in the middle of a war without being attacked was quite a challenge. In the end, the solution seemed deceptively simple. The question was – Would it work? A second question that quickly followed was – Would the
Komodo Dragon
still be around when he was ready?
Prior to becoming an officer and working his way up the ranks to his present position of Captain, Zatch had been an electronics technician specializing in long range communications equipment. He would need those skills now. When the answer to his problem had presented itself, Zatch had checked the inventory of equipment available aboard his ship. By cannibalizing some of his communications gear he would be able to build what he needed.
With the assistance of the ship’s computer, Zatch created the plans for the equipment he would need. As soon as the plans were ready he tore into his ship and started dismantling his backup FTL transceiver. What he needed to do was not difficult but it was time consuming. As he worked he continued to monitor the progress of the war. His people’s ships were making good progress. So far nobody had reported seeing the
Komodo Dragon
for quite some time.
Honor was being satisfied. His hands and his mind were both busy and engaged in the task of satisfying what honor demanded. His people were winning the war. All in all, it was a good day to be happy and the Captain started to hum while he worked.
* * * * *
Proquindabo, Tortanathut, Winterhaven: It seemed like every time Jim looked at the latest bulletin from sector command another planet had been added to the list. Billions dead and more would surely follow. He felt partially responsible for the Alliance’s lack of ability to halt the Chroniech advance. As head of the Alliance’s military weapons research department it was his responsibility to provide the best weapons possible to defend the Alliance against just such an attack. He couldn't help but feel that he had failed.
He had been working himself mercilessly trying to find an answer. Refusing to sleep more than four hours at a time, he had spent countless hours going through the vast database of ideas that had been generated over the ten years the Havatanu research facility had been in operation. Many were unworkable dead ends. Some had promise but would require years of research before they could be deployed in the field. He needed something that could be put into the field quickly and in large numbers.
At least Falnath’s jump drive was soon to see action. Dozens of manufacturing facilities on as many planets had been given the plans and were building the new drive systems. The new Kyrra hytrans transceivers were being deployed to strategic locations throughout the Alliance. But the size and power of the Chroniech fleet indicated that even these new weapons would not be enough. All projections so far showed the Alliance losing the war.
The Havatanu base had always encouraged the staff to put forth even their wildest ideas. The database Commander Cross had been wading through contained ten years of ideas – literally thousands of proposals. He had been sitting at his desk for six hours and had even eaten his lunch while scanning the database looking for anything that could be developed in time to make a difference.
Without his even realizing it, his eyes closed and he drifted off to sleep. His head dropped until his chin rested on his chest. Almost instantly he was asleep and within another few minutes he was dreaming. Many cultures share a common saying – sleep on it – because sleep allowed the brain to organize what it had learned and to cross reference this new knowledge with other stored memories. While Jim slept, his brain organized, sorted, categorized and classified everything. It did so while keeping in mind the overriding reason for all his long hours of research.
Commander Cross’s body started to fall into a deeper sleep and when it did he started to slump forward. The movement woke him up in the middle of the dream and for a second he didn’t quite remember where he was. The dream, fresh in his mind, seemed like reality and the screen full of data in front of him brought that dream into sharp focus. The Alliance is lucky that Mr. Cross remembered that dream because when he did it brought him fully awake.