And so it was with eye-opening consternation that Council Elder Hydon Ra Elys traveled the short distance to the building just as the battle of Falor-Kapel was unfolding.
With Hydon’s already proclaimed resolution to rebuild the Juirean military to its former glory, he was shocked and appalled to see just how much work lay ahead of him. Even with the recent upgrades made since the beginning of the Juirean-Human conflict, Hydon still couldn’t believe how archaic and out-of-date were so much of the Command’s equipment and processes.
And the Command was only short walk from the very capital of the Expansion.
In the darkened room, surrounded by other Councilmembers, a dozen Elites and an untold number of Overlords, the leader of the Expansion had waited for any word of the battle taking place on the other side of the galaxy. Communications would take four hours to reach them, and so far, the only communique had been a cryptic flash from a supply ship well outside the battle zone mentioning something about ‘additional units.’
What additional units? Whose units? And to what affect?
So when the first detailed link came through, sent out through space four hours earlier, all the highest and most powerful beings in the galaxy huddled closer to the linking screen for the update.
An image appeared, of a haggard looking Guard wearing the capes of a ship’s commander. He began to speak very fast. “This is Senior Guard Sevan Ra Vulus. I command one of the three remaining Juirean vessels-”
Although unaccustomed to spontaneous displays of emotion, most of those huddled around the screen cried out with joy. Even the Elder smiled. He knew this had been a possibility; the forces were just too close to parity. And yet if the Human fleet had been destroyed, with only a few Juirean ships surviving, then that was an acceptable price to pay. The Juirean fleet could always be rebuilt.
But the Senior Guard was continuing: “The three ships that made it through the meat-grinder have assembled near the third planet in the system. We all suffered considerable damage during the journey. I will soon be transferring my surviving crew to one of the less-damaged ships in order to escape the system.”
Escape. Escape from what? Hydon thought.
Sevan was still speaking: “The Humans have regrouped outside the damper field, and even as we speak are sending out scouts searching for survivors. I do not have much time. I am sure by this time you know of the fleet’s destruction…”
Which fleet! Human…or Juirean!
“…When the second Human fleet appeared, all of our forces were trapped at the bottom of the Kapelean Corridor. Some tried to run the damper field, but were cut down by the waiting Humans. Also, the Humans appear to have more advanced weapons which can penetrate diffusion screens with impunity. I…wait.” Sevan was handed a datapad from off screen. “I have just now received the latest screen-capture, which was taken just as we entered the asteroids. Seven hundred forty-two was the last count. That is the number of surviving Human combatants.”
The room fell graveyard quiet; stunned looks covered every face, even that of the Elder. Seven hundred forty-two Human ships!
“I will be ending this link now. I must make preparations to abandon ship. Any additional forces the Command can authorize to this region must be substantial. The Human fleet is unstoppable at this point.”
The screen went blank; no one spoke for a full minute, and then some of the lower ranking techs moved off to other stations.
When Hydon regained awareness to his surroundings he noticed that all eyes were focused on him. He could feel the muscles in his neck as they twitched, knowing that his anger was on visible display.
He turned to Fleet Marshal Relion, who seemed a half-a-head smaller this day than last. “Gather all the data you can on this battle, Relion,” Hydon growled. “I need the clearest picture of what happened as soon as possible. What assets do we have available between Falor-Kapel and here?”
The Fleet Marshal did not consult any screen or datapad. “None, my Lord — none worth mentioning. All our available forces were already deployed.”
Hydon knew his mouth had dropped open involuntarily. He quickly snapped it shut and firmed his jaw. “Have all — and I mean all — remaining military units dispatched immediately to the outer boundary. We do not know if the Humans realize how vulnerable we are to attack. Their journey could take four months, maybe more. Will that be enough time to fortify Juir, Fleet Marshal?”
Relion appeared on the verge of collapse, yet he did manage to say to the Supreme Juirean Leader, “It will have to be Elder. It will have to be.”
Chapter 63
After three hours of fighting, the battle was over. The Humans had lost seventy-four ships, plus another one hundred-two damaged to some degree — including Lee’s flagship. As best they could tell, only three Juireans had managed to escape.
If ever there had been a decisive victory, this was it.
Fortunately — and much to his relief — the section of Lee’s ship that had been struck had been unmanned at the time. It contained berthing quarters and focusing ring arrays — part of the ship’s propulsion system. With all his crew at General Quarters, no one had been in those compartments when the ship was hit. Still, two of his crew had suffered cuts and broken bones simply from the impact. When he visited the injured in the small sick bay, they had both been in great spirits, buoyed by the victory in battle they had all experienced.
Lee still kicked himself for having risked their lives. Others within the fleet were expected to be the tip of the sword — not his command ship. This was something he would have deal with, if possible. During his days of flying the single-seat F-35 Lightning II, if he was hit it would be only he who paid the price. Now he had risked his entire crew on account of his childish recklessness. He was sure his uncle would have more than a few choice words to say about the entire affair when they met for debrief.
Within an hour of the conclusion of the battle, the Humans had begun to locate the Juirean damper field satellites and disable them. Once an opening had been made in the field, the Humans bolted out of the killing field and reassembled just outside the Falor-Kapel system.
A shuttle docked with their ship, and Captain Lee Schwartz, USN, along with Tim Carlson, Second-Generation Human, were transferred to the fleet flagship, one of the KFV-D’s, a large Klin disk easily fifty times the size of their KFV-A.
Lee scaled the last ladder leading to the wardroom aboard the fleet flagship, while Tim followed closely, trying his best to keep up. Lee was operating of pure adrenaline now, having not slept in nearly forty hours. The Captain had confided in Tim, telling him that the thrill of the battle, after all the months of playing nursemaid to an ever-growing shadow fleet, had really brought out the warrior in him. And even though he fully expected to be chewed out by his uncle for having risked his life in the actual engagement, he was ready for anything the top brass wanted to throw at him.
Lee entered the wardroom after a quick knock on the door. Inside were five admirals and two generals, each with wide grins on their faces, either standing or seated — and there was champagne on the long metal table. Also, seated against a far wall was Michael Rittenberg, the senior 2G in the fleet.
Lee’s uncle, Admiral Nate Allen, noticed the young Captain immediately. “Speak of the devil, here’s the man of the hour now.”
Nearly all the senior officers gathered around him, shaking hands and patting him on the back. Tim faded into the background, letting Lee have his moment.
Nate Allen approached and gripped his nephew’s right hand tightly. “I should have you busted you all the way down to seaman-recruit for the stunt you pulled out there. You were in command, not some hotshot jet-jockey.”