“Main engines at docking speed, port and starboard thrusters at navigator’s discretion,” Michael said.
The Liberty slowly glided close to the station; navigation lights from the outstretched docking ports and towers illuminated its black and silver hull as it gently drifted past them, the starboard Ionic thrusters lit up in a dazzling electric blue, increasing their brightness temporarily; as the small ship gradually banked away from the station.
“Rendezvous with the fleet and match formation; bearing 127 elevation 14.”
With a bright blue blaze of light the Ionic thrusters spun the ship around; its main engines also glowed as they propelled the little ship forward to join the huge Solarian armada now parked outside the station. There it spun around again and took up its position at the head of the fleet, where it silently waited.
“Jesus; I thought the thrusters would be good but not this good,” Michael said trying to hold onto his seat.
A tense quiet came over the ship as they awaited the signal to depart. Crewmembers busied themselves performing final systems checks; Michael and Vargev both grew pensive.
“It is the calm before the storm,” the Russian said almost whispering. He muttered a silent prayer to the motherland.
They continued silently waiting as if for the starting lights of a race. All 69 ships in perfect wedge formation; there was no movement and barely a sound.
The holographic viewscreen finally shimmered into life once again showing Ralavas’ features. “Clearance to commence operations has been given; good journey, and good luck.” The viewscreen shimmered out of existence once again.
In perfect unison the entire formation advanced. Indeed nearly seven hundred battle cruisers, escorts, and frigates, from two dozen facilities across the Solarian border slowly advanced as one into E.O.C. A territory that day.
On board the Liberty Michael commanded, “green light has been given; increase speed to full sub-light. Signal the fleet to engage plasma drive bearing 120 elevation 9 once we are clear of the station.”
“That would take us to Delta base,” Vargev said.
“Exactly; we will rendezvous with the remainder of the fleet there. And then organise the counter offensive.”
“Okay, you’re the boss.”
As the fleet accelerated away from the imposing silvery silhouette of the Omicron repair facility; a mass of swirling plasma wakes opened, and the fleet entered plasma drive together in a series of blinding flashes that lit up the entire station.
They had begun their race to save what was left of humanity.
Several hours into their trip Michael decided that the excitement he felt about rushing to the aid of his fellow men had given way to hunger. He decided to once again brave the food synthesiser; maybe it now had something reasonably edible to eat.
He headed to the elevator suddenly stopping short, and half-turned. “Televis, you are in command until I get back.”
The Solarian officer nodded in return, and with that Michael stepped onto the elevator and waited for the doors to close.
“Mess area,” he said as the elevator complied and whisked him off to his destination.
Televis; who the hell came up with a name like that, he had a little chuckle to himself as he thought about it.
At length when Michael arrived at the mess area he could not believe the change the small room had gone through.
The bare metal table was no more; instead a grand marble one had replaced it. However, it was the food synthesiser that Michael marvelled at the most; now there was a touch screen panel, in both English, and Solarian script, highlighting the different meals on offer. Michael perused the menu; he found there were hundreds of pre-programmed human and Solarian dishes on offer.
How did they do it? He thought. How did the Solarians get to know so much about us without being detected in the process? I mean they don’t look like us that’s for sure. They were 7 feet tall for heaven’s sake, completely bald, with thin, gangly arms and legs and a Blue-ish tinged skin; moreover, they definitely don’t talk like us either. They spoke with almost an echo of multiple voices all speaking as one.
Michael wondered if indeed they were telepathic. At once he dismissed the thought and keyed in his choice on the panel; good old steak pie with mashed potato and gravy, one of his old favourites; he was going to enjoy this; sitting down he began to eat.
The food was very appetising, but somehow it still had a very slight dryness to it, that home cooked meals didn’t. Still, he had to doff his cap to the Solarians for the effort they had put in. After finishing his meal, he surveyed the empty plate.
“Close but no cigar,” he said to himself, with a slight smile.
Once he had finished, he returned the crockery to the synthesiser to be reabsorbed. And decided to head back to the command centre; the elevator took him to his destination and he stepped out onto his new nerve centre once again.
“Any news?” He asked, settling back down into the centre seat once Televis had given way to him.
“Nothing of note,” the Solarian said. “It’s been rather quiet since you have been gone. Captain Sallus aboard the Faeriath has requested an approximate E.T. A; and the Loganith has developed a problem with its port thrusters. They have decided to drop back to make repairs, however they are confident that it will be fixed and allow them to rejoin the fleet before we arrive at Delta base.”
“Do they need an escort?”
“Negative; they are saying it’s only a minor problem, and should be resuming presently.”
“Good. Once the fighting begins we are going to need all the ships we can lay our hands on.”
“Quite.”
“Captain?” Another Solarian spoke up.
Michael smiled at this since he only held the rank of Lieutenant; however he recognised the Naval custom of calling whoever was in command ‘Captain’, the Solarians must have a similar custom.
“A small fleet of six enemy Krenaran vessels have just shown up on our long range scanners; should we advise the fleet to change course and intercept?”
“Are they Stealth ships or Carriers?” Michael asked rather nervously as he mentioned the latter.
“Unknown at this range sir; however their mass seems to imply they are Stealth ships.”
“Have they detected us?”
“Not yet sir; they seem to be heading towards the Malthus system,” the Solarian replied.
Michael considered this for a moment; that’s a significant detour from our course to Delta base, especially for just six Krenaran ships. Ultimately he conceded they had bigger duties to attend to.
“Our first priority is that we need to get to Delta base to rendezvous with whatever’s left of the E.D. F fleet; contact the nearest Solarian task force, and transmit their co-ordinates; ask them to head them off before they reach Malthus.”
“Very good Captain.”
Michael relaxed in his chair a little, I could get used to this, “how long until we reach Delta base?”
“Five hours at present speed,” Televis replied.
The time passed slowly; Michael paced the command centre impatiently; looking over the monitors that lined the perimeter of the bridge. Something’s wrong; it’s too quiet, he thought.
Finally a Solarian officer broke the silence, “Sir, i’m definitely picking up something. I’m not sure what it is, but it’s definitely not moving. And it’s big; I think it maybe a collection of ships all tightly packed together.”
Michael looked at the officer, puzzled; then said, “bring it up on the viewer.”
The holographic viewscreen shimmered into existence once again. It showed what appeared to be a faint collection of metallic objects far in the distance.
“Magnify.”
There as plain as day drifted the blasted and blackened wreckage of dozens of E.D. F Naval vessels. They could make out the shapes of two Danitza class battleships; their once proud primary rail-cannon turrets smashed to pieces.