The Tactics of Revenge (7 page)

“Lord Relion, have your teams converge on Hyben. I don’t care if you have to excoriate the planet and kill every living thing there – I want Adam Cain either dead or captured. Is that clear?”

“Perfectly, My Lord, yet if there are substantial civilian casualties, it may not play too well politically.”

“Let me worry about that. You just bring me the heart of Adam Cain, beating or otherwise.”

Chapter 9

Juirean Overlord Kackil Fe Nulon received the communication with an air of detached inevitability. Forward scouts had detected the Human fleet at the edge of the Barrier, entering Sector 17 precisely where expected. As the senior Juirean in the Fringe, he understood his role in the upcoming encounter, and he would do what was necessary. It was the only way to assure victory in the long-run.

The Juirean fleet had assembled at the edge of the Void, near Melfora Lum, and consisted of just over two hundred first-line Class-4 and Class-5 battlecruisers, with a few Class-3’s thrown in as well. It was a formidable force, one which would have withstood any assault within the Expansion over the past thousand years. And yet it was only one-quarter the size of the fleet that had been utterly destroyed by the Humans off their homeworld of Earth. As such, Kackil had no illusions as to the outcome of the impending battle.

The scouts had reported a force of just over one-thousand ships entering the Void and heading his way. Initially determined to be much smaller vessels than his battlecruisers, he nonetheless could not underestimate the firepower that each of the Human ships carried. In fact, he had been surprised – even shocked – to hear that the ships the invaders manned had actually been designed and built by the thought-to-be-extinct Klin, a race of beings whose memory haunted the dreams of every Juirean.

It had been over four thousand years since the days of
The Reckoning
, a time when the Juireans had performed genocide on the Klin race. Since then, a sort of racial guilt had permeated the Juirean consciousness over the extermination of three billion Klin, without warning or mercy. But
The Reckoning
had been necessary – all Juireans knew this – as revenge for the senseless killing of millions of their own people as a result of Klin lies and deception.

Yes, the destruction of an entire race of beings was a horrific thing. Yet the Klin had deserved what they got, and the Juireans, through the millennia, had made a tenuous peace with their conflicted emotions.

But even then, the Juireans knew that a few of the Klin had survived. And now, after four thousand years of silence, they had reemerged as allies of the savage Human barbarians. Kackil had studied the reports provided by the Council and he knew the Klin were still few in number serving more as technical advisors to the Humans rather than as active participants in the battles to follow. Still, with the scientific wizardry of the Klin – the basis for the entire technological foundation of the Expansion – this meant that the Humans would have the most-advanced starships ever built, along with their accompanying weapon systems.

So even small in stature, the warships of the Human/Klin fleet were not to be taken lightly.

In face of this reality, the Juirean Council had offered the Overlord with two very distinct battle plans for the upcoming confrontation, and it would be Kackil’s responsibility, made in the heat of battle, to determine which to follow.

Kackil had read with growing anger the report detailing the battle that had taken place off the Human’s homeworld. It was obvious that the Juirean fleet had been tricked, and not afforded the opportunity to engage the Humans in head-to-head combat. Instead, Overlord Yan’wal and his fleet had been ambushed by the Humans, waiting in orbit already in dark status. The fleet had been attacked by ships previously undetected and fired upon from point-blank range. His brother Juireans never even had a chance to fight back.

So the question had never been answered: what would have been the outcome if the fleet had been forewarned and prepared for battle? The answer to that question was Kackil’s foremost objective in the upcoming engagement. This would be the first time the Humans – in their Klin warships – would face a Juirean fleet fully prepared for battle. The Council – indeed the entire Expansion – would be quite anxious to learn the truth.

Nevertheless, Overlord Kackil was frustrated that this forthcoming battle was being treated more as an experiment rather than a major event in Juirean history. And instead of concentrating all his energies on actually winning, Kackil was tasked with collecting data, which would be used to plan future engagements. For his part, Kackil wanted to end the war right here and now, and not even bother prolonging the conflict. Yet the powers on Juir had already concluded that his defeat was inevitable.

Which brought the Overlord to the Council’s second option for the battle, should a complete victory not play out.

The Council had reasoned that with Earth located two-thirds of the way out in the Far Arm, nearly fourteen-hundred light years from the Fringe, the Human supply lines would already be stretched to the breaking point just with their arrival in the Sector. And with apparently no established stellar empire of their own from which to draw support, the Human fleet now entering the region would be all the combatants the Humans could muster against the incredible might and unlimited resources of the Expansion.

So, the Council reasoned, if Kackil’s initial battle did not result in an immediate and overwhelming victory for the Juireans, then he was to withdraw his forces further into the Expansion. There he was to stop periodically to engage the advancing Human fleet, picking off more and more of their ships – while stretching their supply lines even further – as each battle progressed. And then, at some point to be determined by circumstance, the Juireans would have depleted the Human forces to such a degree that they could be easily destroyed by a reinforced Juirean fleet.

The ultimate battle plan made sense, and the defeat of the Human invaders was inevitable, Kackil conceded. Yet it was Kackil’s reputation that was at risk by constantly retreating from the advancing Humans. His only salvation would come with a quick and decisive victory over the Humans, right here in the Fringe.

Whether that outcome was a reality or not would be known to all in about seventy-two hours….

Chapter 10

The twenty-four men and four women in the wardroom had all shuttled over to Admiral Nate Allen’s flagship earlier that day, and consisted of two admirals, an air force general and all of his squadron commanders. The occasion was serious, and even though none of the military personnel in the room had ever been in this particular situation before, they all did their best to hide their anxiety.

In modern warfare, it normally didn’t take four months just to travel to the ultimate point of engagement. All this delay, from departure to battlefield, provided more than enough time for all the combatants to build up doubts and concerns regarding the outcome. This was natural; Allen didn’t want commanders without imagination. But now, on the eve of the first heads-up confrontation with the aliens, the admiral had his work cut out for him, as he attempted to temper the nerves and to steel the resolve of all in the room.

In actuality, Nate Allen knew his task would not be that difficult. These were all military professionals, who although they respected the concept of death, they did not fear it. In fact, after such a long lead-up to the fight, they were all chomping at the bit to get at it.

But still, this fight would be like nothing they had ever experienced before.

“All right, let’s get this meeting started,” Allen said with good-natured charm. Immediately, the light chatter died down and a number of coffee cups were placed back down on the long, gray-metal table.

“First off, I have to say I’m encouraged by your enthusiasm. Going into battle can test the will and resolve of even the strongest amongst us, and this upcoming conflict is unique in of itself. The field of battle, the forces we’re going up against, and even the nature of the enemy itself, is still mostly a mystery to us. Even though we do have Klin intelligence to guide us, this is all virgin territory for Humanity. As such, it has been virtually impossible to formulate detailed battle plans prior to our arrival in theater, and as the fight continues, our plans will naturally evolve. All of us need to be prepared for an ever-changing battlefield.”

Allen smiled and lifted his coffee cup to his lips. When he continued, he looked to his right at Admiral Howie Levin. “As all of you know, I have been put in overall command of the fleet, but you also know I come out of SOCOM, which is more adept at small-unit operations, not big-ass battles like the one we’re about to start here. As such, I am more than willing to turn over the day-to-day operational battle control and planning to Admiral Levin, who has vastly more experience with large-scale operations such as this. Admiral….”

Howie Levin was a studious-looking man, rail-thin with almost non-existent grey hair and dark brown eyes that seldom blinked. He had been in the Navy for thirty-two years, mostly in surface ops, having once commanded the
USS Ronald Reagan
. He was known as a master tactician with an unflappable demeanor, and if it hadn’t been for Nate Allen’s relationship with the JCOS Admiral Keller, Levin would have been placed in overall command of the fleet from the get-go. Yet Levin never questioned the decisions of the higher bass – of which there were very few placed any higher than he.

“Thank you, Admiral Allen,” Levin said without emotion; he simply rose from his seat and activated a large screen on the wall behind where Allen sat the head of the table. On the screen was a diagram of the Fringe, with graphic representations of its twelve habitable planets. Near the top of the screen, and fourth in the line of planets, was Melfora Lum, the capital world of the region.

“As you’ve been briefed, the Juirean fleet is massed near this planet, and according to both the Klin intelligence, plus the Human assets we have in the area, is about two hundred ships in strength. As best we can tell, these are all top-of-the-line warships, so even though we out number them nearly five-to-one, they still pose a considerable threat.

“As far as tactics of the enemy go, we have reliable data that the Juireans prefer to form static lines of attack and defense, which we intend to use to our advantage. Our fast-attack squadrons will attempt to cross the ‘T’ at the outer limits of their lines, concentrating fire at the narrowest point. We don’t want to allow any large segment of the enemy lines to concentrate fire on our ships. Do your best to maintain the smallest possible profile to the enemy guns, and attack in threes, so as to provide the most cover.

“Also, at the same time, we have to be aware that this is a three-dimensional battlefield, and that the enemy may come at you from any direction and from any angle. Just be aware.

“It has also been reported that the Juireans seldom retreat from battle. This has something to do with their cultural pride, which again, is something we can use to our advantage.”

“Since the number of enemy ships is quite a bit fewer than our forces, I will initially leave squadrons twelve and higher in reserve. Commander Schwartz and Captain Burton will take operational control of the initial attacking units. Remember, however, that we want to hold the sixteen hybrid ships back until we can determine the strength and effectiveness of the Juirean defenses. We don’t want to reveal our ace-in-the-hole unless we have to.” Levin stretched out a devious smile at his last comment.

Admiral Levin scanned the anxious faces of all the others seated at the table. The talk of actual strategies and tactics in the face of battle was serving as an aphrodisiac for the warriors in the room; there was almost a giddy exuberance in their expressions.

After a moment, Levin continued. “We’re all professionals in this room, so I don’t have to point out to you that the earlier victory against the Juireans was more of a fluke than a statement of our superiority. This upcoming battle, however, will be our first encounter with a force fully expecting the engagement. We will also be piloting interstellar spaceships for the first time in battle, and against an enemy with thousands of years more experience than we have. This is some serious shit, gentlemen. Just stay frosty, and I know you’ll all perform at your best.

“Jump-off is at oh-four-thirty hours. Now let’s all go out and make our planet proud!”

Chapter 11

As the Juirean Fleet Commander in the Fringe, Senior Guard Hoan Ga Chold was an experienced combat commander, having participated in the Ranqil Federation Uprising sixty-two years before. That uprising had lasted only nineteen days and consisted in a total of two space battles. He’d been a ship’s third-captain at the time, and as such was not involved in the overall planning and execution of the campaign, so his experience with tactics and strategy was not all that extensive.

He was, however, the only living Juirean Guard in the Expansion who had command experience during a military campaign. This limited experience made him uniquely qualified to lead the makeshift Juirean fleet against the invading Human forces.

Hoan’s position as Fleet Commander also revealed a major weakness in the Juirean military hierarchy: namely the lack of anyone with actual combat experience. Unfortunately, this was a consequence of several hundred years of relative peace within the Expansion. Most of the conflicts in the past had been a result of initial encounters with new worlds not familiar with the Expansion. Recently there had been a slowdown in Juirean exploration and colonization, and now the consequences of this ‘peace-dividend’ were becoming apparent.

Hoan had been groomed since birth to serve in the Juirean Guard. He was military through and through, disciplined and serious, exposed to all the theory and philosophy regarding the practice of war. And now, sixty-two years since his one and only exposure to the realities of war, he was desperate to recall any of the lessons he might have learned from that experience. Unfortunately, the lessons were not coming; the conflict had been too short and too long ago to be of any value to him now.