CHAPTER THREE

Flag bridge, RPS Sto’vo’khor, Ru’tak home fleet flagship, May 1, 2368

Claw of Claw’s Ss’rek looked around at his officers. They were his, too, he thought. After almost ten R-years years of combat, he’d never lost a battle. Granted, he had been surprised on a couple of occasions, but even then he had managed to extricate his fleet and live to fight another day. And even before he’d been forced to go over to the defensive, he managed to inflict two-to-one losses on the demon-spawned Lem’zha Hra’nol.

Prey. His fangs barred at thought of Lem’zha flesh. Such a tasty delicacy. And it had even more pleasant.... effects when around a female. Perhaps he would have his cook slaughter one for evening meal tonight. Hmmmm.

He looked at his flag plot. The massive fortifications at the warp point made this the most secure system in known space. Four two and one-half million mega-ton asteroid forts four light seconds from the warp point, each armed with over fifty force beams, a ring of missile forts and capital missile armed asteroid forts the size of a class six fort each over a million mega-tons, a ring of 30,000 mines and laser buoys – not to mention the power of his own fleet. Pity that the High Templar believed the Brit’laa’s tales of some new weapons system that could send missiles through a warp point. Such folly. He hissed mirthless laughter to himself.

“Sir, we’re reading a large number of Lem’zha pinnaces transiting the warp point.”

“How many?” He snapped.

“Gravitics is having a hard time getting an accurate readout, sir, but it appears to be somewhere between thirty and forty.”

“That many? Are the plasma gun and point defense bases engaging?”

“Yes, sir, but the Lem’zha pinnaces are erratically maneuvering, making targeting difficult. We have killed a handful, but..... sir, they are coming about, and appear to be returning through the warp point.”

“How long where they in system?”

“Approximately ninety seconds.”

“Just long enough for them to get an accurate sensor reading. Sound battle stations. Looks like our Lem’zha herds are going to pick up an infusion today.” The Claw of Claws was already beginning to salivate.

* * *

Takahashi Abe was the last of the pinnaces return through the warp point. Most of them made it back, he thought. Good sign. That meant that the Ru’tak probably didn’t have fighters after all. Hopefully ONI was right.

He watched the information from the pinnaces stroll back in. They’d been ordered to do a sweep 800,000 kilometers out from the warp point in order to catch the missile forts reported to be hanging just outside of tactical sensor range of the warp point. It looked like they’d gotten a good read. He knew that the targeting data he was getting was also being fed to the Lem’zha missile pods.

“Message coming in from the Lem’zha flag, sir. It’s the Proto Male himself.”

“On screen.”

The image of a six foot tall Lem’zha male filled the view screen. His graying fur showed his age, but the baldric that he wore left no doubt to his identity. “Admiral, I trust you have received the same data we have?”

“Yes, Highness.”

“I believe by this data we should send through 1000 of our pods, targeting 500 on the force beam forts, and 250 on each of the missile fort groups. Thoughts?”

“Frankly, Highness, your guess is as good as mine. No one in either of our empires has ever used this many pods – let alone in combat. Your numbers look good.”

The Proto male snorted softly, his fur bristling. “Lot of help you are. All right, let’s do it. Another pinnace probe after the first strike?”

“Yes, Highness. I was thinking the same thing. That will allow us to determine if we need to send in more pods or my assault carriers.” Admiral Abe smiled his most wicked smile.

“Right. Stand by to begin bombardment. Kronkild out.”

Admiral Abe looked at his data screen. All was quiet – and then one thousand missile pods began to move as one toward the warp point.

* * *

Claw of Claw’s Ss’rek was getting nervous. Surely, he thought, the Lem’zha must be about to do something. So why didn’t they do it? His gravitics officer brought him out of his reverie.

“Pinnaces sir – lots of them!”

“How many?”

“Still working, sir.... there are a great many of them.... Sir, by my count there are over seven hundred of them.”

What in the Maker’s claws.....?

“Sir, approximately one half of the pinnaces are moving off of the warp point into the mine fields. The duty weapons platforms and plasma gun corvettes are engaging, but I can determine no logical course of action for this event. The mines are killing about ten% of the pinnaces as expected with craft of that size.”

This action made no sense. Pinnaces were used for scouting. You couldn’t arm them with ship killing weapons. Not even the Brit’laa could put their fighter lasers on one, and Ss’rek knew that the still building Ru’tak prototype rail guns certainly couldn’t be either.

And then he realized what the pinnaces were. Not pinnaces, but the missile pods he had scoffed at. He jumped from his chair, nearly floating out of it. He shouted, “GREAT MAKER, THOSE ARN’T PINNACES!!!!! Tell the forts to begin deploying decoy missiles now!”

He knew it was too late. Even as he said it he watched the demon-spawned pinnaces began to spew forth missiles at his forts. More missiles than they could possibly stop – over six hundred at each one. At the ranges they were at, point defense had barely enough time to engage a tenth of the incoming missiles The base’s computers spewed out decoy missiles, luring over half to their death, but it was simply too late. Over two hundred missiles slammed into each fort.

At than point Claw of Claw’s Ss’rek knew his life was over. His fleet would be destroyed, his Homeworld perish, his race would die. The Lem’zha had come up with not only one innovation, but another as well. The size of the explosions could mean only one thing. Anti-matter. The annihilation of life with not-life. While Ru’tak scientists only theorized about the possibility of a containment field powerful enough to hold anti-matter, the Lem’zha had created them. He watched the core of the Ru’tak defenses – four multi-million mega-ton asteroid forts and a dozen super-dreadnought sized capital missile forts – simply wink out of existence.

He thanked the Maker his fleet was outside of weapons range. His crew was in shock, but he knew what must be done. “Communications, fleet band. All units to remain at range. Our only hope of stopping the demon-spawned is to engage them at range. Hopefully they have no fighters and our massed missile batteries will punish them into breaking off.”

* * *

The pinnaces surged back through the warp point., their scanners stabilizing after thirty seconds. More of them died this time, but as they swept out from the warp point, their crews noticed that while the force beams forts were nothing more than glowing rubble, some of the missile forts remained. Damaged, to be sure, but still formidable. They also noticed that a ring of smaller forts had come to battle stations, and that they were armed with heavy, but short ranged, plasma gun batteries. Dodging fire from weapons platforms and corvettes, the pinnaces charged back through the warp point, carrying a priceless second set of targeting data.

* * *

Mike Talbot stretched in his harness one more time, making sure that he was securely fastened into his ejection pod. It still felt secure, but that didn’t make him any less nervous. He tapped his fingers softly on his throttle, waiting.

Captain Gonzalez’s voice echoed into his helmet com. “All pilots, the first wave of missile pods has destroyed the heavy Ru’tak forts. A second wave is going in to clean up. We will transit right behind them. The scout pinnaces report no fighters, but there are many plasma-gun armed corvettes in the area. Prepare for a combat launch – your targets are the Ru’tak super dreadnaughts and battleships ten light seconds out. Good hunting, people. God speed. Transit in 45 seconds.”

Talbot sighed. At least the waiting was almost over. “ Jump shock” affected him less than some others, but it still wasn’t pleasant. He prayed silently to himself. He didn’t have much use for Mother Church’s teachings, but it couldn’t hurt either.

The world went mad around him, and he fought off waves of dizziness. Thankfully it was over almost before it began, and he heard the klaxon wail outside his fighter. Somehow he’d recovered before his computers did, and watched as the force fields pressurizing the bay dropped. A warbling tone echoed in his ear, indicating that the catapults had stabilized, and the computer’s prissy voice started a ten-second launch countdown

Acceleration slammed him back into his seat. He flashed out of the ship, and noticed that Star Knight was being pounded by plasma gun fire, but it looked as if she would live, even if she didn’t get many fighters off. He saw that all six carriers were coming about, and hoped that they would be able to come back to pick him up. Going to be a real short war if not.

Libby Chaulsky’s voice broke over the squadron net. “OK kids, let’s rock and roll. Our target’s are the three super dreadnoughts reported to be just beyond scanner range, bearing 360 by 20 by 5 from our current posisition. It looks like Star Knight isn’t going to join the party, but she did make it out and the carriers should be feeding us a download of the current location of the enemy ships before they go. Minesweepers will be transiting behind us, so we are all the firepower in system for probably the next five minutes. Do not, repeat, do not engage the corvettes – you can outrun them. Good hunting people!”

Talbot throttled his drive up to full power. He noticed that the corvettes were engaging the mammoth Lemming monitor size minesweepers as they transited. Designed to take the fire of many buoys and mines, they could take a pounding, but he still thought their crews had to be suicidal. He brought his craft around, accelerating towards the distant Ru’tak ships.

Ninety seconds later they came into view. “All Banshee’s, Tally ho! Enemy in sight! Range to target is ten light seconds. Enemy is moving away at flank speed.” Talbot didn’t immediately recognize the voice, but he did the next one. It’s identity surprised him.

“All craft, this is Gonzalez. Maneuver for rear shots only. We’re faster and more maneuverable. Don’t get yourself killed. Our job is to keep them busy until fleet clears the mines and the fleet carriers arrive.” Talbot’s respect for his boss notched up another level. If the old man was flying the mission, you knew it was important.

Quickly overhauling the massive ships, the strike fighters began a slow dance of death with them. Too close and you were hit by laser fire from point defense, too far and you got tagged by counter missile fire. However, if you were careful and took your time, you could maneuver into the rear and face neither. The time factor went up, however, if your target was as wildly maneuvering as the Ru’tak were here.

Super dreadnaught’s were big, and they possessed large amounts of weaponry, obviously enough. And all that had to happen was for the big ships to juke the right way once, unmask their massive point defense batteries, and people would die. Talbot and his companions maneuvered tenaciously, but a few craft still exploded as their pilots set up their target runs.

“All craft, this is lead.” Gonzalez’s voice came over the com. “Target the trailing SD. Maintain range, and fire at will!” He waited for the computer to warble lock, and when it did, he and thirty fighter squadrons fired at once.

* * *

Claw of Claw’s Ss’rek knew he had made yet another error. The enemy had fighters – many of them - and he had maneuvered his fleet even farther from the warp point. He gripped his chair as a sudden shock wave hit his ship. “Report!” he snapped.

“Sir, that was Val’hal’la. He’s just...gone, sir!”

“Elaborate!”

“Apparently their attack craft are carrying pure laser weaponry. We have killed a handful of them, but so many remain..... And sir, they arn’t Lem’zha. Their drive patterns match those provided to us by the Brit’laa of.... Terrans.”

“Terrans?” That could only mean...... Another shock wave lurched his ship as Dam’cles blew up behind him. “Communications, signal home world of our situation. Report that we can not hold, but that we will take as many of the demon-spawned with us as we can. Then go to fleet band and patch me in.”

“Done, sir, and you have fleet band.... now”

“All ships, this is Claw of Claw’s Ss’rek. Proceed at maximum speed to point blank range. Kill as many demon spawn as you can. We are about to die, but if you kill enough of those furry devils, your place in paradise will be assured! Ss’rek out.”

An explosion sounded from deep within the bowels of the ship, and Ss’rek knew he had moments left to live. He started a chant among his bridge officers. “The Maker be praised, the Maker is great.....” He saw a laser beam rip through the bulkhead in front of him, shearing it in two. He even had a couple of seconds to contemplate his end before the main structural bulkhead collapsed, smashing him below it’s weight, leaving nothing recognizable remaining.

* * *

Talbot looked up at his console and yelped in victory. According to his computer, he had fired the shot that caused the third SD’s main reactor to go critical. Not everybody gets to paint an SD on their fighter. He noticed that the remaining Ru’tak ships – fifteen battleships and two dozen battlecruisers, as well as their escorts - were moving towards the warp point at flank speed. All thoughts of evasive manuvering had apparently been left behind. Talbot and his squadron brought their craft around. So much the better. Better to shoot fish in a barrel then pirahanna who fought back.

He glanced at his HUD. They were still well outside scanner range of the warp point, so he had no way of knowing how the battle back there progressed.. He pressed the firing stud as fast as his twin lasers would recharge, noting that the Ru’tak seemed oblivious to him. He could understand the Ru’tak’s desire to get closer in to do damage, but to ignore two hundred strike fighters...?

Captain Gonzalez’s voice came over the com. “Keep it up people. Fleet has just informed me that they have breached the mine barrier. That means reinforcements are coming. They’ve also informed me that by the time the Ru’tak reach force beam range, we should have a dozen carriers and a dozen heavy missile monitors and SD’s in system. Our orders are to drive them in toward the warp point where a full deck strike and anti-matter missiles will annihilate them. Go for the battleships people. Don’t get yourselves killed!”

Libby Chaulsky’s voice came across next, calm and collected. “You heard the Captain. All craft, weapons free. Repeat, weapons are free.” Talbot noticed that the Ru’tak weren’t totally oblivious. A few of the lighter craft were taking pot-shots with counter-missiles, but nothing heavy enough to stop them. They simply bored toward the warp point at top speed. For several seemingly endless minutes, he continued to poor laser fire into one battleship after another, watching ten of them be ripped apart. The battle cruisers slowly but steadily pulled ahead, apparently intent on letting the larger cousins die as they rushed toward their own doom. He switched his fire to a new target, thinking that that was fine by him. Let the big boys handle those cruisers. We’ll finish off the battlewagons and go home. Then he saw the lead Ru’tak cruiser stagger under the weight of fire from Lemming Monitors and Terran SD’s.

* * *

The order rang out clear across Thatcher’s battle bridge. “Mr. Thieu, rapid fire, all tubes.” Steven Nyerere, Captain of the heavy missile SD, gripped the arms of his command chair. “Let’s see what these new anti-matter birds can do.” He watched as all twelve capital missile launchers belched their broadside at the lead Ru’tak ship. Several of his ship’s missiles missed outright, and Ru’tak counter-measures nailed several more, but with six cap missile monitors and six more cap missile SD’s all launching, the smaller ship was simply overwhelmed. The front half of the enemy ship disintegrated, and the its drive field buckled, solidifying at half it’s former strength.

Theiu, his weapons officer, chuckled softly. “That had to hurt.”

His com officer spoke up next. “Message from Commodore Seveigny, sir. Audio only.”

A gruff Lem’zha voice came over the speaker. “Switch fire to corvettes. If they have plasma guns, they are a larger threat to us than the cruisers, owing to their speed. The fighter’s rockets will deal with the cruisers. Targeting data following.”

“Download?”

“Coming through now.... Sir, each datalink is to target three corvettes per volley, returning to battle cruisers afterword. Feeding our targets to guns now.”

“Got it, sir.” The small Vietnamese man who served as Thatcher’s weapons officer was wickedly good at this job. “Ready.”

“Fire assigned target list.”

Another dozen missles flashed out from Thatcher’s innards. The other alliance ships did likewise, and twelve of the twenty Ru’tak corvettes exploded in an anti-matter firestorm. “Engaging second target group, sir.” Theiu announced. Ru’tak corvettes were small and nasty, designed to do extreme amounts of damage in a knife fight – inside of a larger ships missile envelope. At this range, however, they didn’t stand a chance against such large missile volleys. Further, anti-matter had just made all ships without the new shields and armor obsolete – neither of which the corvettes had. The other eight craft followed their brothers into oblivion twenty seconds later. “Switching back to BC’s, sir.” This isn’t a battle. It’s a slaughter. He almost felt sorry for the Ru’tak.

He glanced at his monitor, noticing that LHS Roden, flagship of the Lem’zha fleet, had successfully transited. That, he knew, meant that the hammer was about to fall. Nyerere glanced at the list of active and undamaged ships. Twelve fleet carriers – half Lem’zha, halt Terran - had transited in the last four assault waves, one ‘link of carriers to one ‘link of missile heavies. The Protomale’s voice boomed out, nearly loud enough to be heard across the several thousand miles between them. “ALL CRAFT, LUANCH! EXACT OUR VENGENCE UPON THE THRICE-DAMNED!”

With that, over four hundred allied fighters launched. According to the information rapidly spamming his readout, all seventy two squadrons were armed with FRAMS – anti-matter fighter rockets with the same warhead size as a capital missile. He watched the fighters scream off towards the onrushing Ru’tak ships, realizing the battle was nearly over.

As the range fell, the Ru’tak begin to pound the alliance ships in return. LHS Frigg, one of the Lem’zha carriers, took the brunt of the Ru’tak fire. The alliance ships, however, were giving far more than they were taking. The missile ships massed their fire on one or two ships, crippling them and then moving on to a new target. The exchange went on for over two minutes, and while Frigg was a battered, nearly lifeless hulk, a half-dozen Ru’tak beam armed battle cruisers were air-streaming wrecks.

Then the fighters fell upon the enemy ships, like a pack of wolves against a flock of shepardless sheep. There weren’t enough targets anymore – too many of the Ru’tak ships were already dead. Not that it mattered anyway. Shoals of anti-matter rockets blew ship after ship apart. In thirty seconds a dozen and a half battle cruisers, sixteen light cruisers, and five destroyers flashed out of existence. It was over – his plot was free of targets, save for some battered hulks being polished off by the assault carrier’s fighters.

Nyerere cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, let us say thanks to Lord God for the victory he has brought us this day.” His crew bowed as one, saying a silent prayer of thanks and of remembrance for those who had died. The Third Battle of Ru’tar, as the Lem’zha would call it, was over.

CHAPTER TWO

Flag bridge, HMS Orion, in orbit of Arcadia, Nimitz system, April 14, 2368

“A-TEN-SHUN! All hands, Admiral on deck!”

Admiral Takashi Abe pushed himself out of the lift and onto the flag bridge of his new flagship. He glanced around. Orion may be one of the oldest super dreadnoughts in the fleet – dating back to the Lemming war of fifty years ago - but she had just come off of six months of refit and redesign. Newly refitted with advanced targeting systems, new generation composite armor, and CRAM systems to safely allow her magazines to carry anti-matter, she was now one of the most advanced warships in the fleet. Now equipped with a massive standard missile launcher broadside, she excelled at two things: killing fighters, and short range combat, slinging rapid-fire volleys from fifteen of the third generation launchers that made up the fangs of the massive starship.

Takahasi Abe was small for a starship admiral – or so many thought. At just over five feet two inches, he was physically small. However, many hours in the gym kept him is remarkable shape for a man of sixty three years. That, and a keen, quick, analytical mind made him one of the finest flag officers in the fleet. And, he thought dryly, deaths by senior officers tended to help promotions. Jennifer Van der Meulen had been his friend. After forty years in the Queen’s navy, there weren’t too many people left he could say that about.

The Admiral scanned the bridge. Good people, he thought. All of them. He cleared his throat. “As you were.” The bridge crew relaxed, but remained at attention, waiting for his first address as their commander.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, by order of Queen Shannon and the First Space Lord, Grand Admiral Keita, I hereby take command of the newly formed Ru’tak Expeditionary Fleet. That’s right, folks. When this fleet finishes assembling, we are to move into Lemming Space, join up with War Fleet Alpha under the Proto Male himself, and, Lord God willing, smash the Ru’tak home system.”

Admiral Abe paused a moment, listening to a collective gasp ripple through the audience. Takahashi new why. The Lem’zha and the Ru’tak had been blood enemies since first contact occurred over eighty years ago. The Ru’tak, they now knew, were a race of reptilian carnivores who regarded themselves as the only intelligent race in the galaxy, and all others to be simply prey. Dangerous prey, to be sure, but still just prey.

The problem was that after the Ru’tak destroyed the Lem’zha’s original contact ship, the Lem’zha proceeded to ignore the Ru’tak for years, waiting until they had an “ally” of sufficient power to help them destroy what they believed to be a powerful race bent on their destruction. While Lemmings tended to be rather paranoid by human standards, this time their paranoia had a basis in reason. However, as military historians now knew, what would have been an easy fight seventy-five years ago became one of the darkest tales in recorded history.

Fifty years ago the Brit’laa and the Lem’zha signed an alliance whose stated goal was the destruction of the Ru’tak. A massive Brit’laa/Lem’zha fleet was assembled, and the expedition was launched through the closed warp point into the Ru’tak home system. In the thirty years since first contact, the Ru’tak had formed a small extra-solar empire, and their fleet had grown in size. However, it was insignificantly small when compared to the massive armada assembled by the Lem’zha/Brit’laa alliance.

Then, just outside of weapons range of the Ru’tak, the Brit’laa fleet slowed to a few thousand kilometers behind the Lem’zha, and opened fire. The carnage was immense. By the time the Lem’zha could bring their ships about, the Brit’laa battle cruisers had slaughtered 70% of the Lem’zha fleet. In three minutes, the Lem’zha were destroyed. Then, to the elation of the Ru’tak, the Brit’laa provided the Ru’tak with the location of the Lem’zha’s entry warp point into Ru’tak space.

The Ru’tak, according to what was learned later, believed the Brit’laa to be some sort of angel – saving their race from destruction. The Ru’tak and the Brit’laa opened up communications, and the Brit’laa eventually became the only race not regarded as prey by the Ru’tak. Further, in the ensuing war between the Brit’laa/Terran alliance – an alliance based upon falsified evidence provided by the Brit’laa -, the Lem’zha were humbled, losing a third of their territory and forced to pay massive reparations and tribute, humbling their empire for decades.

The next forty-five years were a tale of cold war, neither side willing to take the casualties needed to mount an assault on the other. Both empires grew in size and power, and the Ru’tak honed their navy into the finest fighting force in known space. As a result, when the Ru’tak discovered what they had long sought – another warp point into Lemming space - the war kicked off in earnest. Five years ago, when the Ru’tak’s greatest leader, Claw of Claw’s Ss’rek, took the Ru’tak battle fleet into the Gullveig system, he slaughtered War Fleet Delta - a fifth of the Lem’zha fleet – for minimal casualties to himself.

Three years later, after nearly a dozen large battles, the situation had stabilized. Massive fortifications on all three points of contact had left the Ru’tak unable to launch further offensives and put them squarely on the defense, but neither could the Lem’zha advance. Casualties in the last three assaults had left over fifty dead Lem’zha monitors and super dreadnoughts with nothing to show for it. It was common knowledge that any assault on Ru’tak space was futile and would only result in the destruction of the attacking fleet.

That is, until now, Takahshi Abe thought to himself. After pausing briefly, he continued to speak. “I know what you're thinking. You’ve just been ordered to your death. You’re wrong. I’ve just been informed that the first six assault carriers have been placed under my command, and their ability to put fighters through a warp point should help balance things in our favor. However, they are untried, and may not be enough.

“We do have one more toy, however. Lem’zha R&D has perfected and put into production what we Terrans have only begun working on – warp capable missile bombardment pods.” A few whistles were heard throughout the assembled bridge officers. “That’s right gentles, a pinnace sized craft will carry three of the new Strategic Bombardment Missiles [SBM] through a warp point and lob them at a pre-designated targets. Now, since the Lem’zha know exactly what forts are on the other side of the warp point, and that the Ru’tak rely heavily on battle cruisers and battleships, the current ops plan says we should face little opposition on the far side of the warp point – after a suitable bombardment.” Admiral Abe flashed his most wicked grin at his crew.

“Ladies and gentlemen, after fourteen months, we are about to take the war to the enemy. The enemy may not be the Brit’laa, but the Ru’tak are their only ally. And, while we didn’t start this war, by Lord God’s name, we’re going to finish it!”

The chorus of AMEN’s! was almost deafening.

* * *

“She’s huge!” Mike Talbot exclaimed as he starred out the shuttle craft’s viewport.

“She’s a beaut, ain’t she?” the pilot replied.

“Yeah...” Talbot’s voice trailed off. HMS Dark Knight was one of the largest vessel’s he had ever seen. It was also, unlike most warships, sleek and graceful. Most warships – all those that didn’t carry the long rows of fighter catapults – were a pod and boom, or in the case of dreadnoughts and the like, dumbbell shaped – a pod on each end of a boom. This gave excellent fire arcs for the weapons on the pods, but tended to make war ships look like something out of a weightlifter’s nightmare.

Carriers, on the other hand, had their drive pods in back, with a long boom in front (or two for a carrier the size of Dark Knight) to contain the multitude of catapults needed to launch a carrier’s dozens of strike fighters. This tended to make the carriers more graceful than their battle line cousins.

And Dark Knight was an unusual ship. The Byzanchor were said to use larger carriers, but they lived and died by the fighter. Terran fleets tended to be more balanced, giving the job of breaking a warp point to the battle line and strike fighters the exploitation role. Combat, however, was changing. The power of a strike fighter to bypass minefields and assault defending ships was too great to ignore. As a result, Beau Ships had begun laying down the first assault carrier shortly before the beginning of the war. Now the first six were ready – and they were the main carrier component of Admiral Abe’s new fleet.

The shuttle pulled gracefully into Dark Knight’s boat bay. The pilot, Talbot thought, was pretty good for a shuttle jockey. Coulda been a fighter pilot had he been under fifty.

“Never had anything like that in my day,” the pilot said. “What we woulda gave to have something like that during the Lemming War. Hrmmmpf...,” he snorted softly. “What we woulda given for a strike fighter period.”

Talbot nodded agreement. “Thanks for the ride,” he called out as the airlock started to cycle open.

“No problem, son. Just nail a few Brit’laa for me.” They exchanged grins, and Talbot pushed himself into his new home. Floating down the tube, he came to a stop in the entry area. Captain Gonzalez, another man wearing Captain’s stripes, and Libby Chaulsky were waiting for him.

He snapped to attention, saluting crisply. “2^nd Lieutenant Michael Talbot reporting for duty, sir! Permission to come aboard, sir!?”

The three officers returned his salute. The unknown Captain replied, “Permission granted, son. At ease. I’m Jason Alvarez, Captain of this tub. I believe you know Captain Gonzalez, our CAG. And Lieutenant Chaulsky here is your Wing Commander.”

The lieutenants smiled at each other. When they’d found out that Libby was going to graduate at the top of their class, she’d gotten her choice of assignments. She’d opted to command a strike fighter wing, which meant she was commander of two of the squadrons assigned to Dark Knight – twelve craft in all, and twenty-four pilots.

Captain Alvarez continued, “You’ve been assigned to VF-174, the Diamondbacks. I’m glad you got here when you did as we leave orbit in thirty-six hours. This should be an interesting campaign, and I’m glad to have you aboard. Unless you have further questions...?”

“No, sir.”

“Then I’ll take my leave, Lieutenant. Lots to do, you know. Lieutenant Chaulsky here will show you to your billet.”

“Aye, sir. Thanks – and it’s good to be on board, sir.” Talbot saluted again as the two captains pushed off down the corridor.

“Well, flyboy, whaddya’ think?”

“Nice ship.”

Libby grinned. “That’s an understatement. This ship is state of the art. Seven Banshee squadrons, engine tuners to push all six assault carriers through the warp point in one wave, enough magazine capacity so we could fight the half dozen fleet carriers tagging along on this little jaunt as well.... I’ve never seen anything like it, Mike. These ships might really be able to break the defenses of the Ru’tak home system.”

“Hrrrmpf. Let’s just hope the intel pukes are right and the Lizard’s don’t have any fighters.

Libby’s response was playful. “What’s the matter, Mikey? Still sore about those low dog fighting scores you got?”

Talbot’s response was quick. “You know I can take you five times out of ten, and that means I’m the best stick around here besides you.”

“In your dreams, flyboy. You couldn’t take me if your life depended on it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Libby grinned. “In fact, I got a fifth of Jack Daniel’s says I take you down in the sim pods right now!”

Talbot grinned back. “You’re on. Just show me where to stow my gear, and we’ll settle this now. I don’t technically report for duty for two more hours. Should be more than enough time to kick your ass.”

Libby Chaulsky’s grin was wicked. “Well,” she mused, “If you’re gonna’ suffer from delusions, you might as well go for the really grand ones.... Come one, were on J deck. I’ll show you where to go.”

Mike Talbot followed his friend and boss down the corridor. If I live, he thought, this could be an interesting tour. Such a morbid thought. He pushed in to the back of his mind, realizing that morbid thoughts just got you dead that much quicker.

* * *

Takahashi Abe looked at his flag plot. Lot of firepower here. Lord God, I hope it’s enough. Nine Churchill class heavy missile super dreadnoughts, six Yamato class SD’s like Orion, six assault carriers, six old Iron Duke class battleships, another half dozen fleet carriers....... It was the largest fleet assembled by humanity since the slaughter of Tzvistanhagen. But was it enough?

His com officer’s voice rang out across the bridge. “All ships report ready for transit to Lem’zha space, sir.”

“All right, signal the fleet to follow our lead. Mr. Mufutu, you may transit at your discretion.”

“Aye, sir.” With that, he felt the deck plates tremble slightly as the drives worked up to full military power. Transiting a warp point, one of the naturally occurring wormholes that dotted known space and made instant travel between star systems possible, was dangerous even under secure rear area condition such as this. Misread the grav stresses, and you could end up facing one hundred eighty degrees from the way you started. Lack sufficient power, and you could wind up turned inside out – literally. Jump too quickly behind another starship, and you could wind up occupying that same space as that ship – and not existing afterwards. Even after forty years in the navy, he always held his breath during transit.

The helmsman’s deep baritone voice bellowed across the bridge. “Transit order locked... All systems nominal. Drive power approaching one hundred percent of military power. Transit in ten...nine...eight....” Takahashi closed his eyes, and held his breath. He hated being the first to transit, but at least he would never know if something went wrong. He felt the sense of nausea that came along with having your body in three places at once – Where you were, where you will be, and the not-understood fifth dimension of hyperspace. It only lasted a few seconds, but...

And then it was over. The universe came crashing back, and Admiral Abe exhaled suddenly. He looked around, checking to make sure all his extremities were in the right place. He breathed deeply a few times, and waited for the ships computers to stabilize. Reports began to flicker in. “All systems nominal. Thunderer has transited behind us, and also appears to be nominal.” Admiral Abe breathed a sigh of relief. I’m getting to old for this, he thought. Yet only a few more jumps and we will be ready to take the fight to the enemy. Been to long..... far to long.” Admiral Abe sat back into his command chair and listened to the sounds of his command flow around him. This time, we’re attacking. And thanks to our new toys, we’re about to show the bleeding lizards what a pissed off Terran is really like.