The Legend of Earth (The Human Chronicles Saga -- Book 5) (23 page)

“Is there a possibility of moving up the attack on Earth? If we attack now, then what Adam Cain can or can’t do will have no relevance.”

“The strike force is on final approach to Earth and are under communications lockdown. We will attempt, but it is something we cannot rely on.”

Daninf seemed to gather his thoughts, even though Jonnif could see a slight trembling of his head every time he moved. “Jonnif, you realize that to have first taken Juir, and then be forced to retreat, will result in even a greater loss of
legend
than if we never attempted the invasion in the first place? There is no shame in waiting for the most opportune time to strike a target. Yet you knew the Human fleet was coming, and you still insisted on carrying out this plan, even knowing the risks. If the Kracori are forced to retreat, we may never fully recover from the humiliation, and after only recently revealing ourselves to the Expansion. We have no established legend with them, something that might be able to withstand such devastation. Only eradicating the Humans from the galaxy would ever salvage the Kracori legend – if even then – and we are in no position to attempt such a feat at this time if the attack upon Earth fails.”

“My Ludif, the attack may still be successful. We are assuming that Adam Cain can contact his fleet, and then that the forces on Earth can stop the strike. All that we speak of here may not come to be. We can still prevail.”

Daninf looked from side to side at the other Council members, each nodding in silent agreement. “Jonnif, we will await the final outcome of the attack on Earth; we do not wish to disrupt the command structure within your forces at this time. However, no matter the final outcome of the attack, you
will
be relieved of your command and recalled to Eilsion. If the attack is a success, you will be allowed to retire to a non-strategic life with no loss of public legend. If it fails, then unfortunately you will be made the face of this failure and your legend will be destroyed as probably none have before it.”

“My Ludif, and other Council members, I fully accept my fate. I would expect nothing less. My first error may have been forgiven had I maintained control of Adam Cain. Compounding my first with my second error – in allowing him to escape – is inexcusable.”

“Excuses are one thing, Jonnif, as are apologies. Catastrophes are another. We must all hope now that the attack on Earth succeeds. If it doesn’t, it is not only
your
legend which will be destroyed, but also that of the entire Kracori.”

Chapter 25

For Petty Officer First Class (RM1) Caleb Cobb, the thrill of space travel had lost its luster about nine months ago. Unlike all the wild fantasies about space travel that had danced through his head prior to volunteering for the Human Revenge Fleet, Caleb had yet to see any extraterrestrials in the flesh or set foot upon a single exotic alien world. Instead he’d spent the past year cloistered aboard only one starship, the
Bunker Hill
, the command ship of the fleet. Although the accommodations aboard the craft were better than any he’d ever experienced during his sixteen years in the U.S. Navy, after all this time Caleb Cobb was going stir-crazy. And they still had a very long, open-ended mission ahead of them.

His only diversion came from the fact that he was one of the many bachelors aboard the ship, which also carried its fair share of single female crewmembers, and these women were just as restless as he. In addition, crews from the smaller KFV’s would constantly rotate through the much larger KFV-D, placing their ships within the massive landing bay for week-long stays at a time. This added to the variety of people Caleb met, but by now he’d already scoped out most of the decent possibilities, so even this activity was growing monotonous.

Although Caleb Cobb was never lonely, he was still bored beyond belief.

During the nearly year-long deployment, Caleb had not even seen any real fighting action, except for the brief battle off Falor-Kapel. Of the fifteen hundred ships of the fleet only the KFV-A’s and B’s had seen most of action – and that had only come in brief spurts weeks apart.

Caleb did his best to rationalize the situation, realizing that even if the crews could be granted liberty somewhere, it would be on an alien world completely new to Humanity. Without extensive and time-consuming surveys, covering the full range of scientific, medical and security considerations, no landfall would be coming anytime soon.

Except maybe on Juir.

Caleb knew the capital planet of the Juirean Expansion was their final destination, and even then they were still almost three months out, and once arriving in an area called the Alliance Cluster, they would undoubtedly encounter the most ferocious battle to date. Landing upon the surface of Juir after such a battle would hardly be considered
liberty
.

Still, at this point Caleb Cobb would welcome
any
chance to step upon a surface of something other than metal.

And now these cryptic and confusing reports had begun to filter in from all around them. Caleb was a Radioman, specifically a Broadcast Operator aboard the flagship. It was his job to log all incoming and outgoing communications for the fleet. With the arrival of the Klin and all their advanced comm technology, nearly everything he had learned during his Navy career had gone out the window. Now he dealt with
links
and
wormhole relays
and
transit times
. He hadn’t had time to learn how all this new technology worked before they deployed; all he knew for sure was that it did.

His position aboard the flagship also gave him a unique insight into the thinking of the top brass, both here and back on Earth. He saw nearly every message exchanged between the two locations and so had a fairly good feel for how things were going.

The fleet had left Falor-Kapel and entered a major deep-well transit route that the Klin spies – the
Saviors
– had provided them. Once the Saviors had been revealed for what they really were, many of them had been given a choice: life in prison for espionage, or join the Fleet and provide all assistance possible. Many of the off-world-born Humans had quickly converted. Caleb knew two of these men – now called
Second-Generation Humans
or simply 2G’s. They were really nice guys, yet very desperate to be accepted by their heretical brothers and sisters.

Command had gone out of their way to explain who the 2G’s were and how they had been born and raised off-planet, while constantly being fed propaganda about the native Humans by the Klin. The transition went smooth enough for most; what conflicts there were usually came from a small minority of the
native
Human population of the fleet
toward
the 2G’s, rather than the other way around.

The route they followed to Juir took them just above the galactic plane and into an area deemed optimal for deep-well transit. It was also a route frequented by most of the other long-distance travelers in the galaxy. Yet as the gigantic Human fleet made its way inexorably toward Juir, most of this other interstellar traffic wisely chose to move out of the way.
 

The Human fleet was the largest concentration of warships in the galaxy since the Juirean Mass over thirty-five hundred years before, even though that fact was not totally accurate. The Mass
had
consisted of over ten-thousand starships, but when it spread out from Juir, it went off in all directions, assimilating thousands of worlds into the new Juirean Empire at the time. But with that much space to cover, individual units of Juirean warships never numbered much more than twenty or thirty in an area. The Human Fleet consisted of just over
fifteen hundred starships
, all in one concentration, and now still spread out along the deep-well route for over half a light year. To the untrained eye, half a light year would seem like a vast distance to arrange fifteen hundred starships. Yet at deep-well velocities, the concentration of ships appeared as one brilliant, oblong blob of white-hot energy, ripping nearby space into concentric waves of warped and contorted space.

The approaching Human fleet was impossible to miss.

The cryptic messages had begun about a week ago. They came in across all comm bands and mainly from the direction in which the fleet was headed – from the Alliance Cluster. Universal translation bugs made every message decipherable, and they all spoke about an attack within the Cluster, possibly even of Juir herself.

At first, the intel guys believed the messages to be a ruse, an effort to convince the advancing Humans that Juir had
already
been destroyed and therefore not worth the trip. But then the sheer number and variety of the messages convinced them that this was no ruse. Juir
had
been attacked, and from the description of the attackers, the ships appeared to be
Klin
.

Caleb had been privy to the discussions going back and forth between Earth and the fleet. Had the Klin really attacked Juir ahead of the Humans? By now it was universally believed that the Klin were responsible for the entire Human-Juirean conflict, with the intended purpose of weakening both races to the point where the Klin could then assume control of the Expansion. But then
Falor-Kapel
happened, leaving the Human Fleet stronger than any galactic force in thirty-five hundred years. The Klin would not stand a chance going up against the Humans.

With the belief that Juir had indeed been attacked, there developed a strong advocacy among certain parties for the fleet to turn around and return to Earth. The Juireans had been destroyed, so the revenge they sought for the attack upon the Earth should now be satisfied. And who cared if the Klin now wanted to make themselves king? Galactic politics were not the responsibility of the Human race.

Others had argued that it had been the Klin who had tricked the Juireans into attacking the Earth, and therefore it was the
Klin
who Humanity should seek vengeance against. And now, from all accounts, they occupied Juir. To many, it didn’t seem right that the Klin should win, not after all the death and destruction their machinations had caused.

All these discussions had taken place rapidly and nearly continuously for the past week. The dynamics within the galaxy were rapidly changing, and however it all turned out, as far as RM1 Caleb Cobb was concerned, he was ready to go home.

Caleb was alone in the radio shack on the mid-watch – his watch-mate, RM2 Brian Dockins, had just left to grab a snack in the mess hall – when his comm screens began to light up. It was flash traffic from the forward units of the fleet, reporting a new message that had been picked up coming over a multitude of the lower wormhole frequencies. If it hadn’t been for Command’s thirst for more definitive intel on the Klin attack of Juir, most of these frequencies would have gone unscanned. As it was Caleb had now received no less than thirteen copies of the same short message.

And then his own scanner picked up the signal.

Caleb listened to the few short sentences and knew immediately to whom the message was addressed. He encrypted the recording on his computer and then left the radio shack just as Brian walked through the hatchway.

“Take over,” Caleb said as he passed Brian. “I have to report this.”

“Report what?” Brain mumbled after him, his mouth half-full of a roast beef sub. But Caleb was already gone.

The radio shack was located in the Combat Information Center of the ship and only a short distance from Admiral Allen’s underway cabin. Caleb approached the Admiral’s door, and even at this late hour, did not hesitate to knock. The Admiral would want to hear this.