Arthur Daigle's Blog - Posts Tagged "warships"
A Friend in Need
Pupvel waited outside the admiral’s office, his hearts pounding and fingers twitching. He desperately tried to relax. His people, his world, depended on him. There would be only one chance to get this right and he didn’t know if he could. His mind raced to friends, family, neighbors, even people he hated. They’d all die if this didn’t work precisely the way he’d planned.
“The admiral will see you now, Representative Pupvel,” a female secretary said. He’d spent months learning the subtle differences between their genders. Pupvel nodded to the human that towered over him. He wore special glasses so he could see the colors around him. Colors mattered to humans. The secretary’s blue dress uniform seemed to blend into the blue steel walls and floors. No carpets. That was good. He didn’t want them to have trouble cleaning up his hair. Terrible timing to do this during shedding season.
A door opened and the secretary ushered him into a spacious office. There were pictures of famous human ships on the walls, some so old they were propelled by wind and oars. Humans were proud of their past, understandable given their string of victories. The desk was unremarkable, and there was a small chair in front of it for him. Kind of them to make the effort.
“Representative Pupvel, it’s a pleasure to meet you in person,” Admiral Graves said. He was tall, all humans were, and had black hair turning gray. His uniform lacked the many medals he’d earned. Pupvel’s research suggested Graves disliked pomp and prestige and only wore his medals when circumstances forced him to. The admiral walked up and Pupvel reached out his hand in the human tradition, which the admiral shook.
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.” He did his best to keep his tail from wagging. Humans found that distracting, lacking tails of their own. He’d commissioned his suit weeks ago to be as similar to human formal attire as possible, but he’d had to make an exception and leave a hole for his tail. Keep it still, don’t show fear.
“May I get you something to drink?”
“Later, please. Admiral, Ambassador Kessel assured me that you are already aware of the peril my people are in, and that I could count on human assistance.”
Graves gestured for Pupvel to sit before taking a seat behind his desk. “Earth’s President and Senate are aware of your situation.”
Pupvel noticed Graves frown slightly. Worried, he asked, “You disagree?”
“Not at all, Representative. The ambassador’s orders to me were to give you anything you asked for, a rather imprecise order, if you’ll forgive my saying so. I prefer well defined instructions without room for misunderstandings. My displeasure is with her wording, nothing more.”
“I see.” Pupvel opened a leather briefcase (human made, he’d insisted on it) and took out his personal computer. For a second his ears flopped in front of his eyes, making him almost miss the teeth marks on one of the briefcase’s corners. Creator protect him, his sons must have had chewed on it! He set the briefcase down with the teeth marks pointing away from Graves.
This was already going badly. It had been for weeks. Pupvel had led the effort to enlist foreign help and met opposition from all those he’d gone to. ‘We’re still rebuilding after our last war.’ ‘Better you than us.’ ‘Go ask the humans. You’re friends with those monsters.’ It had been brutal. This was his last chance to stop the fast approaching nightmare.
“My people don’t have much time,” Pupvel told Graves. “The Kilreth fleet is already on its way to demand their flesh tax. They intend to eat five percent of our population, more if we resist.”
“That won’t happen.” There was a firmness to Graves’ voice and a hardness to his expression. He was getting angry.
Humans were homicidally aggressive when angered. While war was never their first choice, if the shooting started only humans were left standing when it was over. Most races avoided humans, and none sought to anger them. Pupvel’s race was one of the few interstellar species to never fight a war with mankind and the only one to have a treaty of friendship with them. Years of studying humans still hadn’t helped Pupvel understand why his people had been so blessed, but he still had to be careful. He’d come to request a massive favor the humans had never granted to anyone.
“Our fleets are insufficient to survive the battle,” Pupvel continued. “That is why I came to you for help.”
“You have it, sir. No harm will come to your people.”
Pupvel activated his computer and called up a ship image every bit as grand as the ones on the walls. “My leaders believe there is a chance to avert this war with your help.”
“Respectfully, sir, what little we know of the Kilreth shows they are not going to negotiate. They value only strength and the willingness to use it.”
Pupvel handed his computer to Graves. “They will respect the Justifier.”
Graves accepted the computer and studied the image. It showed the human ship Justifier, a vessel they frequently referred to as a battle wagon. It was an odd name for a warship, but one humans were proud of. They had good reason to be. Justifier had been at the front line of human wars for eighty years, carving a path of destruction through humanity’s enemies. It was larger than any vessel in any other races’ fleet, armed with weapons that could crack open a moon. Justifier had earned many nicknames over the years, including Fleet Killer, The Horror and simply Death.
Graves looked confused and handed back the computer. “Representative, the Justifier hasn’t seen action in fifteen years.”
“That is not surprising when your people haven’t fought a war in twenty years, but the Justifier’s reputation has not diminished in that time. Twenty-seven battles, two hundred kills, and it has always left the field of battle a victor. The Kilreth are an isolationist species, but they have heard of humans. Everyone who has heard of you knows and fears the Justifier.”
“Two hundred-eleven kills,” Graves corrected him. “Representative, we’re already prepared a military response to prevent this abomination. Our most modern automated warships are ready to defend your home world. The Justifier, as impressive as its history is, shouldn’t be required for the job at hand.”
Pupvel had expected this. Justifier was a human flagship, highly prized and much beloved. They’d want to keep it in their own empire (technically not an empire, but the difference was slight) to defend their worlds in case of danger. He was asking for the greatest warship ever made, making the request even harder.
“Justifier’s reputation may make the Kilreth unwilling to attack,” Pupvel pressed. “Seeing it supporting our fleets may be enough for them to reconsider, for as you say, they respect only strength and the willingness to use it. Justifier has proven its strength time and again, winning victories where all thought defeat was certain. If they won’t stop, whether from madness or desperation, Justifier has the power to stop them.”
Before Graves could object, Pupvel said, “I am told you have a fleet yard in your home system where Justifier currently resides until needed.”
“That’s correct, sir.”
Until recently that fleet yard had been the stuff of legends, or nightmares. A moon circled by the galaxy’s largest known fleet, every last one armed for battle and maintained by automated space stations, it was the embodiment of humanity’s willingness to win at any price. Any other race would have been crippled by the cost. Humanity paid it year after year.
Pupvel had paid a fortune to learn whether there was truth to the legend. His spy had secured many blurred long range visuals and escaped undetected. Part of him had been appalled by the sight of so many warships, but then he’d seen it. In the last image was Justifier, proud and deadly as ever, waiting patiently for the next war. It meant his people had a chance.
“Justifier is functional?” Pupvel asked. The pictures had confirmed the battle wagon still existed, but it was possible the ship wasn’t ready for duty. Pupvel didn’t know what to do if that was the case.
“Justifier is in working condition,” Graves replied. “We can turn on its AI and have it ready in hours, if necessary.”
“There are other vessels there, should you need them,” Pupvel said. “Justifier wouldn’t be gone long in any event. I know you are unhappy with my request, but it is my people’s only hope.”
“We have newer ships that can do the job.”
“They lack Justifier’s reputation. If there is any chance to avoid bloodshed, we must terrify the Kilreth. I know you must think me foolish to say this, but I do not desire the Kilreth to die anymore than my own family members.”
“I don’t think you’re foolish, sir. If anything, you’re a kinder soul than I am, and you give me hope for the future of our galaxy.”
“Ambassador Kessel surely didn’t know what I would ask of you when she made her promise,” Pupvel said. “If you need to contact her first, please do so, but quickly. Billions of lives depend on her answer.”
Graves paused. Pupvel’s fears almost made him lose bladder control. That would be disastrous. He had to show courage in the face of the impossible, to be as human in his behavior as possible. So much depended on it!
When Graves spoke, it was with a calmness Pupvel wished his possessed. “Justifier is the flagship of the 11th fleet. Much of its success in battle is due to the ships that sail with it. The heavy cruisers Relentless and Retaliator, four destroyer escorts and eleven missile frigates. I cannot send it into battle alone. Representative, if you are determined to have the Justifier, it must have the rest of the 11th fleet to support it.”
Pupvel nearly fainted. Justifier and seventeen other human warships? That was enough firepower to destroy a planet!
“Do you accept these terms?” Graves asked.
“I, I do, admiral,” Pupvel replied, and promptly passed out.
* * * * *
Graves leaned back into his chair and waited. Ambassador Kessel was on her way to express her displeasure. His men were keeping him updated on her exact location as she stormed her way toward him. This was going to be messy.
The last three weeks had been…interesting. Pupvel had needed two days to fully recover. Graves tried to suppress a smile at the poor alien’s condition. Meeting with a three feet tall biped puppy dog wearing a business suit, and sporting a brief case someone had chewed up, had pushed Graves’ self control to the limit. He wouldn’t have laughed at the poor fellow, but it was so hard not to pat Pupvel’s head or rub his stomach as one might a dog. Having Pupvel pass out, and need a change of clothes afterwards, must have embarrassed the alien. But he’d gone back to his people with a wagging tail and news of their salvation.
Graves had also ordered an investigation into how Pupvel had learned about the fleets in orbit over Titan. Humanity had gone to great lengths to make sure no enemy learned how many ships they had, and after an intelligence agent hacked Pupvel’s computer while the alien was recovering, they knew the secret was out. At least part of the secret. There were more fleets than the ones orbiting Titan, and more important fleets. It would take time to discover how those pictures had been taken and make sure it never happened again.
Getting the Justifier online again had been easy. The ship’s AI proved ready and able for another battle. When it had learned exactly what Pupvel and his people faced, the ship had growled. Old AIs could express emotions, in this case fury. Graves didn’t begrudge the reaction. The 11th had arrived on location with days to spare before the invasion fleet attacked.
What had happened after that had been disturbing.
“Ambassador Kessel is here to see you, admiral,” Graves’ secretary said.
“Send her in,” Graves said softly.
The door hadn’t fully opened when Kessel said, “I can’t believe what you did. It was inexcusable. And don’t you dare say you were following my orders.”
“May I offer you a drink, madam ambassador?”
“You sent a mothballed fleet to save our only real ally! The 11th hadn’t been upgraded for thirty years!”
Graves poured himself a scotch and took a sip. “Thirty-two years. I am well aware of the fleet’s condition.”
“My God, why didn’t you send modern warships!”
“The 17th fleet was also sent and kept in reserve if the 11th was unable to complete the mission,” he told her. “There was no risk of failure.”
“Then why send the 11th at all?” she demanded.
“We didn’t have reliable intelligence on the Kilreth’s capacities. If they had proven more powerful than we’d estimated, we would have only lost outdated ships and could have finished the mission with the 17th.” Graves finished his drink and poured himself another. “Because Representative Pupvel’s plan to intimidate the Kilreth might have worked. And because you gave an order so open to interpretation that I was left in the position to either give the representative what he asked for or publicly ignore a plea from what you correctly describe as our only ally. Don’t do that to me again.”
“Don’t try to pin the blame on this for me. This was showboating, nothing more. You got a chance to use an antique with a fancy reputation, and you couldn’t resist the temptation. It could have been a disaster. You’re lucky this ended in a victory.”
“Victory, madam?” Graves fixed the ambassador with a harsh stare. “There was no victory. There was no battle. It was a slaughter.”
Graves pressed a button on his desk, and the wall behind him lit up in a tactical display showing the 11th defending a world of four billion people. A native war fleet stayed far behind the 11th, the ships numerous but small and lightly armed. If they engaged the enemy fleet the only thing they could do was die.
“You didn’t see the record of this engagement, did you, madam?” Graves asked. “Please, watch. It won’t take long.”
The Kilreth fleet numbered 123 warships, ranging from corvettes and frigates to battlecruisers and carriers. The moment they dropped out of warp they launched over a thousand fighters and bombers. It was impressive in tonnage and tactics, but long range sensors showed worrying signs.
“The Kilreth engine and shield outputs, what’s wrong with them?” Kessel asked.
“As best we can tell they were working perfectly,” Graves replied.
“Kilreth fleet, this is Justifier of the Earth Alliance,” Justifier broadcast. “This star system is under our protection as per the terms of the Atlanta Treaty of 2358. The legal owners of this system have declared your presence unacceptable. Withdraw immediately. We will respond with extreme prejudice to any hostilities directed toward this fleet or inhabited planets.”
“Our psychologists believe the Kilreth took that warning as a sign of weakness,” Graves said. “Damn fools.”
There was the slightest hesitation before every ship in the Kilreth fleet opened fire on Justifier. Mass drivers, particle beam cannons, missiles, torpedoes, it was an avalanche of firepower aimed at the biggest threat to their fleet.
They may as well have spit at it. Missiles and torpedoes were intercepted far from their target. Mass driver shots and particle beams struck the Justifier’s shields like bugs hitting a windshield. The battle wagon’s armor wasn’t even tested as nothing they threw at it even reached the ship’s hull.
Justifier and the rest of the 11th fleet returned fire and hit twenty-eight Kilreth ships. They didn’t damage or cripple them. They tore them to pieces, detonating reactor cores and munition stockpiles. No one survived the hellish explosions.
Kilreth ships scattered. Some tried to close the distance between them and the 11th. Others tried to go to warp and escape. Justifier targeted fleeing ships first, lighting up the sky with more explosions while ignoring Kilreth ships still firing at it. Once Justifier was certain no one was going to escape, it and the rest of the fleet turned their fury at the enemies foolish enough to attack. Vessel after vessel died, cut apart in a storm of fire. The fighters and bombers died last, only because Justifier hadn’t deemed them important and left them until it was done with actual threats.
“What happened?” Kessel asked. “Justifier was a mothballed ship. It shouldn’t have even been there.”
“We’re studying the wreckage of the Kilreth ships,” Graves replied. “It will take time for a complete analysis, but it looks like their technology is generations behind ours. Their ship designs were underpowered and under gunned. It may surprise you to know this is a common factor in all the alien ships we’ve encountered.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Sixty years ago some of their empires might have stood a chance against us. They’d have taken massive losses, but they could have held us back. We’ve been improving, though, making better ships and more of them. Our rivals, such as they are, haven’t made nearly enough progress to match us. Some are getting weaker as time passes because they can’t afford to replace their losses. Many times our old ships are better than their newest. The Kilreth were one of the few species we weren’t entirely certain we could beat. We’re certain of it now.”
“Are the Kilreth sending another fleet?” Kessel asked.
“They’re begging for their lives,” Graves poured a drink and handed it to Kessel. “When humanity first reached out to the stars, we were sure we’d fight aliens the same way we’d always fought one another. Every year we made bigger, stronger, faster ships. We thought we had to, because somewhere out there could be an enemy so powerful we might not be able to stop them. Generations of getting ready for the big one, monsters that could come out of the void.
“The other species we’ve met didn’t or couldn’t match us. It cost too much, took too much effort. Maybe they figured nobody would even try to do what we did. Madam ambassador, to every other race in our galaxy, we’re the monsters that come out of the void.”
Before the recording of the battle ended, they heard Justifier broadcast a message. “Justifier to central command. All threats eliminated. Are there further targets?”
“The admiral will see you now, Representative Pupvel,” a female secretary said. He’d spent months learning the subtle differences between their genders. Pupvel nodded to the human that towered over him. He wore special glasses so he could see the colors around him. Colors mattered to humans. The secretary’s blue dress uniform seemed to blend into the blue steel walls and floors. No carpets. That was good. He didn’t want them to have trouble cleaning up his hair. Terrible timing to do this during shedding season.
A door opened and the secretary ushered him into a spacious office. There were pictures of famous human ships on the walls, some so old they were propelled by wind and oars. Humans were proud of their past, understandable given their string of victories. The desk was unremarkable, and there was a small chair in front of it for him. Kind of them to make the effort.
“Representative Pupvel, it’s a pleasure to meet you in person,” Admiral Graves said. He was tall, all humans were, and had black hair turning gray. His uniform lacked the many medals he’d earned. Pupvel’s research suggested Graves disliked pomp and prestige and only wore his medals when circumstances forced him to. The admiral walked up and Pupvel reached out his hand in the human tradition, which the admiral shook.
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.” He did his best to keep his tail from wagging. Humans found that distracting, lacking tails of their own. He’d commissioned his suit weeks ago to be as similar to human formal attire as possible, but he’d had to make an exception and leave a hole for his tail. Keep it still, don’t show fear.
“May I get you something to drink?”
“Later, please. Admiral, Ambassador Kessel assured me that you are already aware of the peril my people are in, and that I could count on human assistance.”
Graves gestured for Pupvel to sit before taking a seat behind his desk. “Earth’s President and Senate are aware of your situation.”
Pupvel noticed Graves frown slightly. Worried, he asked, “You disagree?”
“Not at all, Representative. The ambassador’s orders to me were to give you anything you asked for, a rather imprecise order, if you’ll forgive my saying so. I prefer well defined instructions without room for misunderstandings. My displeasure is with her wording, nothing more.”
“I see.” Pupvel opened a leather briefcase (human made, he’d insisted on it) and took out his personal computer. For a second his ears flopped in front of his eyes, making him almost miss the teeth marks on one of the briefcase’s corners. Creator protect him, his sons must have had chewed on it! He set the briefcase down with the teeth marks pointing away from Graves.
This was already going badly. It had been for weeks. Pupvel had led the effort to enlist foreign help and met opposition from all those he’d gone to. ‘We’re still rebuilding after our last war.’ ‘Better you than us.’ ‘Go ask the humans. You’re friends with those monsters.’ It had been brutal. This was his last chance to stop the fast approaching nightmare.
“My people don’t have much time,” Pupvel told Graves. “The Kilreth fleet is already on its way to demand their flesh tax. They intend to eat five percent of our population, more if we resist.”
“That won’t happen.” There was a firmness to Graves’ voice and a hardness to his expression. He was getting angry.
Humans were homicidally aggressive when angered. While war was never their first choice, if the shooting started only humans were left standing when it was over. Most races avoided humans, and none sought to anger them. Pupvel’s race was one of the few interstellar species to never fight a war with mankind and the only one to have a treaty of friendship with them. Years of studying humans still hadn’t helped Pupvel understand why his people had been so blessed, but he still had to be careful. He’d come to request a massive favor the humans had never granted to anyone.
“Our fleets are insufficient to survive the battle,” Pupvel continued. “That is why I came to you for help.”
“You have it, sir. No harm will come to your people.”
Pupvel activated his computer and called up a ship image every bit as grand as the ones on the walls. “My leaders believe there is a chance to avert this war with your help.”
“Respectfully, sir, what little we know of the Kilreth shows they are not going to negotiate. They value only strength and the willingness to use it.”
Pupvel handed his computer to Graves. “They will respect the Justifier.”
Graves accepted the computer and studied the image. It showed the human ship Justifier, a vessel they frequently referred to as a battle wagon. It was an odd name for a warship, but one humans were proud of. They had good reason to be. Justifier had been at the front line of human wars for eighty years, carving a path of destruction through humanity’s enemies. It was larger than any vessel in any other races’ fleet, armed with weapons that could crack open a moon. Justifier had earned many nicknames over the years, including Fleet Killer, The Horror and simply Death.
Graves looked confused and handed back the computer. “Representative, the Justifier hasn’t seen action in fifteen years.”
“That is not surprising when your people haven’t fought a war in twenty years, but the Justifier’s reputation has not diminished in that time. Twenty-seven battles, two hundred kills, and it has always left the field of battle a victor. The Kilreth are an isolationist species, but they have heard of humans. Everyone who has heard of you knows and fears the Justifier.”
“Two hundred-eleven kills,” Graves corrected him. “Representative, we’re already prepared a military response to prevent this abomination. Our most modern automated warships are ready to defend your home world. The Justifier, as impressive as its history is, shouldn’t be required for the job at hand.”
Pupvel had expected this. Justifier was a human flagship, highly prized and much beloved. They’d want to keep it in their own empire (technically not an empire, but the difference was slight) to defend their worlds in case of danger. He was asking for the greatest warship ever made, making the request even harder.
“Justifier’s reputation may make the Kilreth unwilling to attack,” Pupvel pressed. “Seeing it supporting our fleets may be enough for them to reconsider, for as you say, they respect only strength and the willingness to use it. Justifier has proven its strength time and again, winning victories where all thought defeat was certain. If they won’t stop, whether from madness or desperation, Justifier has the power to stop them.”
Before Graves could object, Pupvel said, “I am told you have a fleet yard in your home system where Justifier currently resides until needed.”
“That’s correct, sir.”
Until recently that fleet yard had been the stuff of legends, or nightmares. A moon circled by the galaxy’s largest known fleet, every last one armed for battle and maintained by automated space stations, it was the embodiment of humanity’s willingness to win at any price. Any other race would have been crippled by the cost. Humanity paid it year after year.
Pupvel had paid a fortune to learn whether there was truth to the legend. His spy had secured many blurred long range visuals and escaped undetected. Part of him had been appalled by the sight of so many warships, but then he’d seen it. In the last image was Justifier, proud and deadly as ever, waiting patiently for the next war. It meant his people had a chance.
“Justifier is functional?” Pupvel asked. The pictures had confirmed the battle wagon still existed, but it was possible the ship wasn’t ready for duty. Pupvel didn’t know what to do if that was the case.
“Justifier is in working condition,” Graves replied. “We can turn on its AI and have it ready in hours, if necessary.”
“There are other vessels there, should you need them,” Pupvel said. “Justifier wouldn’t be gone long in any event. I know you are unhappy with my request, but it is my people’s only hope.”
“We have newer ships that can do the job.”
“They lack Justifier’s reputation. If there is any chance to avoid bloodshed, we must terrify the Kilreth. I know you must think me foolish to say this, but I do not desire the Kilreth to die anymore than my own family members.”
“I don’t think you’re foolish, sir. If anything, you’re a kinder soul than I am, and you give me hope for the future of our galaxy.”
“Ambassador Kessel surely didn’t know what I would ask of you when she made her promise,” Pupvel said. “If you need to contact her first, please do so, but quickly. Billions of lives depend on her answer.”
Graves paused. Pupvel’s fears almost made him lose bladder control. That would be disastrous. He had to show courage in the face of the impossible, to be as human in his behavior as possible. So much depended on it!
When Graves spoke, it was with a calmness Pupvel wished his possessed. “Justifier is the flagship of the 11th fleet. Much of its success in battle is due to the ships that sail with it. The heavy cruisers Relentless and Retaliator, four destroyer escorts and eleven missile frigates. I cannot send it into battle alone. Representative, if you are determined to have the Justifier, it must have the rest of the 11th fleet to support it.”
Pupvel nearly fainted. Justifier and seventeen other human warships? That was enough firepower to destroy a planet!
“Do you accept these terms?” Graves asked.
“I, I do, admiral,” Pupvel replied, and promptly passed out.
* * * * *
Graves leaned back into his chair and waited. Ambassador Kessel was on her way to express her displeasure. His men were keeping him updated on her exact location as she stormed her way toward him. This was going to be messy.
The last three weeks had been…interesting. Pupvel had needed two days to fully recover. Graves tried to suppress a smile at the poor alien’s condition. Meeting with a three feet tall biped puppy dog wearing a business suit, and sporting a brief case someone had chewed up, had pushed Graves’ self control to the limit. He wouldn’t have laughed at the poor fellow, but it was so hard not to pat Pupvel’s head or rub his stomach as one might a dog. Having Pupvel pass out, and need a change of clothes afterwards, must have embarrassed the alien. But he’d gone back to his people with a wagging tail and news of their salvation.
Graves had also ordered an investigation into how Pupvel had learned about the fleets in orbit over Titan. Humanity had gone to great lengths to make sure no enemy learned how many ships they had, and after an intelligence agent hacked Pupvel’s computer while the alien was recovering, they knew the secret was out. At least part of the secret. There were more fleets than the ones orbiting Titan, and more important fleets. It would take time to discover how those pictures had been taken and make sure it never happened again.
Getting the Justifier online again had been easy. The ship’s AI proved ready and able for another battle. When it had learned exactly what Pupvel and his people faced, the ship had growled. Old AIs could express emotions, in this case fury. Graves didn’t begrudge the reaction. The 11th had arrived on location with days to spare before the invasion fleet attacked.
What had happened after that had been disturbing.
“Ambassador Kessel is here to see you, admiral,” Graves’ secretary said.
“Send her in,” Graves said softly.
The door hadn’t fully opened when Kessel said, “I can’t believe what you did. It was inexcusable. And don’t you dare say you were following my orders.”
“May I offer you a drink, madam ambassador?”
“You sent a mothballed fleet to save our only real ally! The 11th hadn’t been upgraded for thirty years!”
Graves poured himself a scotch and took a sip. “Thirty-two years. I am well aware of the fleet’s condition.”
“My God, why didn’t you send modern warships!”
“The 17th fleet was also sent and kept in reserve if the 11th was unable to complete the mission,” he told her. “There was no risk of failure.”
“Then why send the 11th at all?” she demanded.
“We didn’t have reliable intelligence on the Kilreth’s capacities. If they had proven more powerful than we’d estimated, we would have only lost outdated ships and could have finished the mission with the 17th.” Graves finished his drink and poured himself another. “Because Representative Pupvel’s plan to intimidate the Kilreth might have worked. And because you gave an order so open to interpretation that I was left in the position to either give the representative what he asked for or publicly ignore a plea from what you correctly describe as our only ally. Don’t do that to me again.”
“Don’t try to pin the blame on this for me. This was showboating, nothing more. You got a chance to use an antique with a fancy reputation, and you couldn’t resist the temptation. It could have been a disaster. You’re lucky this ended in a victory.”
“Victory, madam?” Graves fixed the ambassador with a harsh stare. “There was no victory. There was no battle. It was a slaughter.”
Graves pressed a button on his desk, and the wall behind him lit up in a tactical display showing the 11th defending a world of four billion people. A native war fleet stayed far behind the 11th, the ships numerous but small and lightly armed. If they engaged the enemy fleet the only thing they could do was die.
“You didn’t see the record of this engagement, did you, madam?” Graves asked. “Please, watch. It won’t take long.”
The Kilreth fleet numbered 123 warships, ranging from corvettes and frigates to battlecruisers and carriers. The moment they dropped out of warp they launched over a thousand fighters and bombers. It was impressive in tonnage and tactics, but long range sensors showed worrying signs.
“The Kilreth engine and shield outputs, what’s wrong with them?” Kessel asked.
“As best we can tell they were working perfectly,” Graves replied.
“Kilreth fleet, this is Justifier of the Earth Alliance,” Justifier broadcast. “This star system is under our protection as per the terms of the Atlanta Treaty of 2358. The legal owners of this system have declared your presence unacceptable. Withdraw immediately. We will respond with extreme prejudice to any hostilities directed toward this fleet or inhabited planets.”
“Our psychologists believe the Kilreth took that warning as a sign of weakness,” Graves said. “Damn fools.”
There was the slightest hesitation before every ship in the Kilreth fleet opened fire on Justifier. Mass drivers, particle beam cannons, missiles, torpedoes, it was an avalanche of firepower aimed at the biggest threat to their fleet.
They may as well have spit at it. Missiles and torpedoes were intercepted far from their target. Mass driver shots and particle beams struck the Justifier’s shields like bugs hitting a windshield. The battle wagon’s armor wasn’t even tested as nothing they threw at it even reached the ship’s hull.
Justifier and the rest of the 11th fleet returned fire and hit twenty-eight Kilreth ships. They didn’t damage or cripple them. They tore them to pieces, detonating reactor cores and munition stockpiles. No one survived the hellish explosions.
Kilreth ships scattered. Some tried to close the distance between them and the 11th. Others tried to go to warp and escape. Justifier targeted fleeing ships first, lighting up the sky with more explosions while ignoring Kilreth ships still firing at it. Once Justifier was certain no one was going to escape, it and the rest of the fleet turned their fury at the enemies foolish enough to attack. Vessel after vessel died, cut apart in a storm of fire. The fighters and bombers died last, only because Justifier hadn’t deemed them important and left them until it was done with actual threats.
“What happened?” Kessel asked. “Justifier was a mothballed ship. It shouldn’t have even been there.”
“We’re studying the wreckage of the Kilreth ships,” Graves replied. “It will take time for a complete analysis, but it looks like their technology is generations behind ours. Their ship designs were underpowered and under gunned. It may surprise you to know this is a common factor in all the alien ships we’ve encountered.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Sixty years ago some of their empires might have stood a chance against us. They’d have taken massive losses, but they could have held us back. We’ve been improving, though, making better ships and more of them. Our rivals, such as they are, haven’t made nearly enough progress to match us. Some are getting weaker as time passes because they can’t afford to replace their losses. Many times our old ships are better than their newest. The Kilreth were one of the few species we weren’t entirely certain we could beat. We’re certain of it now.”
“Are the Kilreth sending another fleet?” Kessel asked.
“They’re begging for their lives,” Graves poured a drink and handed it to Kessel. “When humanity first reached out to the stars, we were sure we’d fight aliens the same way we’d always fought one another. Every year we made bigger, stronger, faster ships. We thought we had to, because somewhere out there could be an enemy so powerful we might not be able to stop them. Generations of getting ready for the big one, monsters that could come out of the void.
“The other species we’ve met didn’t or couldn’t match us. It cost too much, took too much effort. Maybe they figured nobody would even try to do what we did. Madam ambassador, to every other race in our galaxy, we’re the monsters that come out of the void.”
Before the recording of the battle ended, they heard Justifier broadcast a message. “Justifier to central command. All threats eliminated. Are there further targets?”
