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“I agree,” the company commander said. Algrite looked away from his senior NCO. “You know, I requested your promotion to Sergeant First Class.”
“Thank you, sir,” Naylark said. “As long as you or Captain Brink don’t try and make me an officer, we’ll be good.”
Algrite laughed. “What’s wrong with being an officer?”
“Nothing, sir,” Naylark said. “It’s just not for me. It’s a different mindset; that’s all. I don’t have it. I know my limitations. I can make sure your orders and intentions are carried out. I can keep the troops in order. I can perform and teach every position in our unit, and, in a pinch, I could lead in combat. But the planning and tactics and everything that goes with that? Nope, I know my limitations. That’s a skillset I don’t have. Besides, I can’t be an officer. I know how to read a map.” Grinning at her commander, she walked off.
Lieutenant Algrite shook his head and walked over to get a closer look at the new tanks. They all had the Bolts’ logo painted on them. He ran his hand across the cloud and lightning bolts. The design was similar to the ones they had now, except for the armor on the outside, and, even though the main gun was still the same, there was now a crew-served laser weapon mounted for the tank commander to fire from the commander’s hatch. At least we don’t have to train the drivers on new procedures—or the rest of the crew, for that matter.
Armor and artillery training was always conducted with the Withaloo Ground Forces. The rounds used in both pieces of equipment were the same, as was the design of them, for the most part. Most of the Bolts’ equipment was smaller, of course, due to the size of the Withaloo compared to humans and Pikith. He did have a platoon of the larger tanks crewed by Withaloo and Yalteens. Perhaps the larger tanks would get the same upgrades now.
Several of the Withaloo troops had transferred over once they’d been vetted and tested. Not that all the Withaloo in the Ground Forces weren’t good troops, but the Bolts only accepted the best of the transfer requests. Those who’d initially enlisted into the Bolts and didn’t quite make it were given the option to transfer to the Ground Forces. There was no shame in failing the rigorous training; some made it on later attempts. Like the Bolts, the Withaloo now had other races among their ranks. Rumor control said the name of the entire Ground Forces was going to be changed to the Salvage Ground Forces, dropping the word Withaloo. In Algrite’s mind, it was the only natural progression, and a good thing. He hadn’t run into anyone who thought otherwise. Salvage System was truly diverse, after all.
* * * * *
Chapter Seven
Countryside
Planet Nazrooth
Darloon sat on his bench in the small flower garden in his back yard. Having just emerged from his meditation pool, he was happily warming himself in the sun with his eyes closed. He noticed a darkening in the light through his thin eyelids, and opened them, seeing a shadow as it moved across the fields behind his home. He felt the slight change in temperature as another shadow passed. Realizing something was not quite right, he looked up, saw what had caused it, and knew it wasn’t rain clouds.
Like all Nazrooth, he and the rest of his amphibian race were pacifists. He had no idea what race or type of ships were descending to his planet’s surface; he only knew that many ships in formation did not bode well. Occasionally he looked at news reports from across the galaxy on the Galaxy Internet, so he was well aware of what an invasion force looked like. Why any race would do this to his world was beyond his comprehension.
Unlike most of his race, he was a Nazrooth of action, and he knew what to do. It was the same thing he did months ago. As several of the ships peeled off and appeared to prepare to land in the distant fields, he heard the sounds of their engines screaming to slow the ships, though there was still quite some distance between them and the surface. He hopped inside, hurried to his computer, and turned it on.
He hadn’t used it during this last two weeks of vacation at his warm weather home, or perhaps he would have known of the large ships that had brought them to the Nazrooth System. He doubted anyone in an official status knew of them. All of the government was on block vacation during Meditation Vacation time. The citizens of Nazrooth understood this, and the need for them to take time for relaxation and meditation like everyone else
As was tradition, nearly everything had been shut down, and even the entertainment systems weren’t used during this time. No one even watched the skies with traffic radar, much less the gate, nor anything between it and the planet. The trading station in the system was on autonomous mode while its normal inhabitants were on the surface on Meditation Vacation. The entire planet was virtually shut down.
The computer was ready, and though he might work for the Nazrooth citizens as a representative in their government—a peaceful, fulfilling job like most preferred on his planet—one of his many brothers was unusual and an adventurous type. He had his own small ship and actually left the system on occasion. It was going to be very expensive again, but he initiated a direct call to Shonflate, reading and using the complicated step-by-step process sent to him by Bahroot, one of the Salvage Fleet intelligence officers, he presumed. He’d never met the individual. The call went through a small relay platform out near the gate, so whatever blocking devices were being used by the invaders didn’t work.
After his call, he hopped out his back door in time to see the last of the four ships land, the sound of it all rumbling across the fields. The ramp on the first ship was down, and several rows of low, flat machines came down the ramps to park in a huge circle around the ships. Each ship added to the growing number of war machines. It was hard to see at this distance, but Darloon could see movement as row after row of multi-legged beings formed up inside the perimeter.
He ran back to his computer when he heard the alert tone on it. Someone in the news business was back at work now. Five more groups of ships had landed, and the footage showed all of them discharging armed multi-legged soldiers. Darloon knew Nazrooth was all but conquered. They had no army, no soldiers, not even a large number of dispute solvers.
For the first time in his life, Darloon questioned his race’s consensus decision to become true pacifists over one hundred years ago. The pirates who had taken up residence in their system months ago were tadpole play compared to this. They’d hired outside help to take care of them, and then hired another company to provide defense in the Nazrooth System for six months after. When the decision had been made that protection was no longer needed, the committee had opted to let the contract lapse.
He only hoped his brother could get President Harmon Tomeral and the Salvage Fleet to agree to come to his system’s aid once again. He had his doubts, now that he knew there were other groups like this one. The ships that came into his system were very powerful; he hoped Salvage System had a formidable army. Ridding the system of pirates was one thing, but successfully entering a system with that many conquering ships between them and Nazrooth, landing forces, fighting, and defeating a large army of conquerors on the planet itself was another.
* * *
Bleeve Dreadnaught Devastation
In Orbit
Nazrooth System
Admiral Gorligthah settled down onto his platform in the command center of the Bleeve dreadnaught Devastation and studied the first report on the progress of his fleet’s Skitter Forces. He was the overall commander of all Bleeve forces, while an old friend commanded the Skitter Forces on the planet as his subordinate.
Twenty large troop transport shuttles had already emptied their equipment and forces and were on their way back to their parent ships for their next load. Once all of them were in place, he would have ten thousand of his Skitter Forces, two artillery units, two tank battalions, and the support units necessary for a sustained deployment. Later he would coordinate replicators and engineers to make permanent bases. Once this system was completely under their control, it would belong to Queen Shamilorah forever.
“Sir,” called out his commu
nications officer, “all task forces are in their sectors and beginning to patrol. The ships you designated as gate security are making their second rotation now.”
“Good,” commented Gorligthah. “We are here for the duration. When the boarding teams complete their sweep of the space station, let me know.”
“Yes, sir,” answered the officer as he turned and scuttled back toward his bank of screens and systems.
The admiral turned toward the officer standing with his upper segment upright. “Vice Admiral Ashlah, this was easier than expected. Perhaps the queen and her intelligence group should find other pacifist systems so we can grow the Empire faster than planned. Sixty ships was overkill for this mission. There was no reason to send half the queen’s warships here.”
“True, Admiral,” Ashlah agreed. “Perhaps she wanted to send a message to the galaxy that she would have her way, and to steer clear from Bleeve business.”
“Maybe,” said Gorligthah as he stood on six legs and reached for the slate a technician handed him. He looked over at the ship’s commander. “I know this; the galaxy better pay heed. The Bleeve Empire is coming, and we will conquer and build larger fleets to take more. With the shipyards in the systems we take and convert, there will be no force capable of stopping us before long. Glory to the queen.”
“Glory to the queen,” agreed Ashlah with actual gusto, no matter that he was required to repeat it.
* * *
Skitter Force Headquarters
Planet Nazrooth
On the surface in a temporary headquarters, a grizzled old Bleeve stood, staring at a physical map pinned to a large section of the tent’s wall. His four brigades of Skitter Forces were setting up temporary bases in five locations near cities. One brigade was split between two areas with less dense population. He decided this was the priority after going over the intelligence gathered by the human spies. The other, much smaller, continent on the planet was so sparsely populated it could be occupied at a later date. General Fellgothah continued to study the map and the terrain specifically, trying to find an error in his planning. Even though this world had been taken without a shot being fired, he had been around too long not to make plans for an uprising or an actual army, should any other system decide to intervene.
A hired force had put a stop to piracy in this system once before. He’d learned who it was, and had watched the video footage of the defense of Salvage System as well. All of it had been ship battles, but he’d also dug a little deeper and found out what had happened on the planet Barlat. Salvage System had deployed ground forces. There wasn’t much information to be had, but that much he knew. There was no way a young system like that could muster enough to seriously consider taking on his ten thousand plus forces, but he was no fool, so he had a plan. Unfortunately ten thousand or so was all he had. The other twenty units like his were back on Bleeve, preparing for their own missions over the next couple of years.
Behind him, a much younger colonel snickered to himself as he watched the old one look at the map. Anyone observing how he looked at his commander would know he thought the older Bleeve an outdated fool. He turned back to his slate and checked the progress, like any reasonable modern Bleeve would, with his slate and a map overlay program.
“I don’t like the terrain around Fourth Brigade’s first two battalions, Klayrah,” the general called out, turning his upper segment toward his second in command. “It allows an enemy several approaches, and access to high ground around them.”
“Yes, sir,” Colonel Klayrah said. “I will coordinate plans to move them six miles south onto the plain, though it moves them farther from the largest city near them.”
“You do that,” the general said, turning back to his map. The colonel was a logistics officer, so it would be a simple task for him. “One never knows if the enemy will see the weakness in our Skitter Forces’ placement and exploit it. We do not want to lose an inch of the new ground the queen has acquired. Glory to the queen.”
The second in command of all the Skitter Forces shook his head behind his commander’s back. There would be no enemy to fight. “Glory to the queen,” he called out in a bored voice and went back to his slate and the numbers scrolling across its screen.
* * * * *
Chapter Eight
Diamond One
Salvage System
“Diamond One to Salvage Title,” Captain Urlak said, using the comm on his command seat.
His squadron, the Diamond Squadron, was covering high gate guard this week; the four original ships in the squadron were strengthened with two of the refurbished Gritloth light battlecruisers. They now had atmosphere generators installed, creating the atmosphere required for Kashkal like the four Nazrooth ships. The new ships were named Left Earing and Right Earing. Urlak had no idea why the commodore had finally given in and let Hank and Stan name some of the captured ships. Then again, as associates, they did own portions of them. When the brothers found out the ships would be part of the Diamond Squadron, they came up with the ridiculous names.
Urlak had to admit it kind of fit with the whole Diamond Squadron thing, and he now had command of four destroyers and two light battlecruisers, a challenge he readily accepted. Salvage Fleet now had six ships crewed by Kashkal. His father, the leader of the Kashkal, commanded a fleet of almost thirty ships, all falling under Commodore Tomeral’s leadership, but they were still the Kashkal Fleet.
“Urlak,” the commodore answered. “Talk to me.”
“Sir,” Urlak said, surprised he’d answered, himself. Usually the communications officer on the flagship answered and made the connection. “We had an unscheduled gate entry. This isn’t unusual, given the rate at which our colony is growing, but upon a quick investigation, we learned the ship is the same small Nazrooth ship from over six months ago. My tactical officer doublechecked its readings to verify.”
“It must be Shonflate,” Harmon decided. “He mentioned coming back and setting up some trade. You didn’t have to call about that. He’s a good being. I really don’t think it’s a security issue for the system.”
“For our system it isn’t,” agreed Urlak, “but if what he’s telling me is correct, it is for his.”
“Again?” Harmon asked. “Punch him through on relay. I know his communications gear isn’t military grade, so he can’t reach us without assistance.”
“I’m doing so now, sir,” Urlak answered.
* * *
Salvage Title
“Hey, Path,” Harmon called out to his communications officer, “what was the name of Shonflate’s ship again?
The Withaloo lieutenant checked a file on one of his screens. “The ship is named Pond Ripple, though I have absolutely no idea what that means, sir.”
“Thanks,” Harmon said.
“Pond Ripple, Salvage Title,” Harmon said after engaging his comms again.
“President Tomeral, it is good to speak to you again,” Shonflate’s voice came through, boosted by Diamond One’s communications gear. “I trust you float on a calm surface, my friend.”
“I’m doing pretty good,” Harmon concurred. “I hope you’re doing alright yourself. Urlak says you have another problem in your system?”
“Alas, there are waves in the Nazrooth System once again,” answered Shonflate. “Though I tend to enjoy a little surface disturbance in my own small pond, I wish for the calmness desired by all at home. My brother, the council member, has contacted me once more.”
“Whatcha got this time? Pirates again?” Harmon asked, sitting back. “I wouldn’t mind a few of my new squadrons getting a little hands-on training. As long as ship killers aren’t part of the training again.”
“I am afraid it is more than that, my friend,” Shonflate informed him. “I have been authorized to let you know you may bill Nazrooth an amount you deem acceptable should you decide to help once again. The Council feels you will be fair in your dealings.”
“Bill you?” Harmons was surprised.
When o
ne of Salvage Fleet’s task forces had wiped out a small fleet of pirate ships six months ago, as he observed, he hadn’t bothered charging the system for it. The engagement was quick and resulted in no loss of life, so the salvage of the nine ships and the fighters in the pirate fleet was more than enough. It had saved them from having to mine or purchase some of the rare elements needed for the shipyard replicators. If the Nazrooth Council was talking about actually paying credit, it must be something more than a few pirates.
“Our system has been invaded, and an army is on the surface of Nazrooth,” Shonflate said.
“What?” Harmon asked, standing. “Give me all the information you have.” Looking up toward the overhead speaker, he called out, “Jayneen, can you and Bahroot listen in to this call? We’re going need to know some stuff.”
“Yes, Harmon, I’m now listening, and I contacted Bahroot,” answered the Artificial Intelligence known as Jayneen. She was the first AI in the galaxy, created over twenty-two hundred years ago.
“Hey, Uncle Harmon,” Bahroot said. “I’m on it…whatever it is.”
“Ok, Shonflate,” Harmon said. “Tell us what you know.”
“My brother said they came during the Meditation Vacation,” Shonflate said. “No one was watching the gate or the traffic in the system. Once the fleet was discovered, transport ships were already landing. It has been estimated there are over eight thousand soldiers, along with heavy war machines, dispersed across the land.”