Y'all want some more?
Chapter Eight
In orbit of Goesa’vaina,
IKS B’rel
The roaring noise of the scout’s engines filled the bridge as his lithe little ship ate up the remaining distance between her and the Goesa’kain. The bark of the cloak alarm nearly quelled the reports of Ron’jar’s First as he called off range to target. At last, the alarm halted and the lighting came to full power. Now came the gunner’s turn to light up the sky. Green bursts of brilliant, rapid-fire nadion energy flashed out at the glowing blue drives of the massive warship. With each firing, the B’rel’s hull reverberated with the noise and vibration of the weapon charging system.
The Goesa’kain’s aft shielding flared and shivered under the on going assault. It took barely six seconds to pound through to bare hull. The aft armor of the mighty ship began to shred into millions of sparkling bits, the expanse of now blackened metal superheating to a brilliant red. Another trio of shots from each battery blew the fantail armor away between the two huge sublight engines. The starboard driver sputtered, then faded to a cooler color. The Goesa’kain slued to the extreme right.
A volley of two photon torpedoes shot straight out as the disruptors quieted. Both struck the remaining impulse drive, imploding it upon itself and sending out a spiraling spray of glass-like induction material. Inertia carried the massive, and now ballistic, vessel forward as she tumbled into a slow spin. It did not take long for Goesa’vaina’s gravity to claim its own…
Ron’jar nodded with a silent, and barely visible smile as he watched the battleship’s glowing hull drop into the atmosphere of the planet below. He almost longed to linger over what he knew would be a truly stupendous antimatter explosion when the Goesan ship slammed into the sun-baked desert sands below. Gladly, there was not enough of a hydrogen concentration in the planet’s air to endanger a one-to-one annihilation ratio. Therefor the biosphere was in no danger of being ripped away. But the detonation of nearly a thousand metric tons of compressed deuterium in any form would be amazing. He would make a special effort later to inspect the crater…
“Reestablish cloak.” The commander barked down at Sub-lieutenant S’tall. The Romulan officer showed no sign of irritation at his tone toward her. He thought vaguely of hurling the occasional insult when he addressed her, but decided it would be counter productive. No need to distract her during battle. The alarm sounded and the lighting fell back to its former subdued level.
“First,” he growled to the XO, “center visual on the Whitehairs!”
Tor’nax jabbed a series of three tabs on his console and the forward viewer flickered to the image of the ongoing battle. The trio of aged cruisers had lured the trailing escorts into high polar orbit and had split into three separate paths. The Goesan escort ships had smartly remained together, trailing the lead ship and hammering her with their combined forward firepower. However, whilst they succeeded in pounding Kodell’s shields down as he feigned flight, they’d left their tails open for the remaining two to sweep back in on their rears. Even now, the left-most Goesan ship was death-rolling out of orbit in a trail of her own flaming guts. All three of the Whitehairs were dogging the final Goesan craft and separating it to its component molecules.
All was proceeding according to plan. Not the original, fleet-ordered plan, perhaps, but the outcome was better than what had been expected. All resistance above Goesa’vaina had been removed, and the Endeavour had not been able to deliver any significant number of reinforcements to the people below. Now to make his report to General Tor. And then, he’d wait.
Grand Assemblage Hall,
Goesa’vaina
“Reports are sketchy, My Lady.” Iram called out from the strategic operation center in the right corner of the control room. Elani held her face in check, maintaining complete control over the horror threatening to bring her to her knees. The first space war her people had ever faced, and it had to have happened during her reign! And such overwhelming forces! Her pallor turned whiter and whiter.
“I believe our escorts are losing their battle!” The Over Secretary finished, looking back at her with controlled fear in his eyes. The Jessa’tae found it impossible to hold the man’s gaze. Iram had been a seasoned veteran of the military before his current posting. And he was looking to her for guidance! Her eyes retreated to Coarus.
“What report from Goesa’kain?” She asked, imploring good news from the Prime. The bald soldier kept his expression impassive as he touched a control on the face of his surveillance panel. “This is the feed from Tactical Satellite 17, polar orbit.”
The image was of the northern curvature of her world. It showed the golden sands of the Paldan desert. It showed serene white clouds around the perimeter of the screen. In the center of the feed, it showed a blazing blossom of roiling flame, spreading slowly over kilometers, hundreds of kilometers, of populated lands...
“The Goesa’kain, my Jessa’tae.” I’rell said in a low, husky tone, confirming the worst. Even the unshakable Dashak Prime’s jaw was slack. Eight hundred Goesans had just perished, plus however many occupied the countryside the ‘kain had slammed into. Elani’tess’s back grew rigid. Her green eyes narrowed to angry slits. The Klingons dared.
“Dashak Prime, Assemble the entire Dashak Guard. We are going to the Trade Square. Our command will be led from there as with our forefathers.” The Jessa’tae was already on the move for the chamber entrance. Behind her, the Over Secretary shot up from his seat.
“My Jessa’tae! You must remain here, in the command room! This chamber is reinforced—“
Elani turned and speared him with her sharpest gaze. “I will not hide within a hardened bunker as my people fight an die about the capitol building. You will remain here to coordinate our communications, but myself and the Guard are going to lead from the field.”
Secretary Iram stood taken aback. This was not what he’d expected from a woman so young. His own granddaughter was older than Elani’tess. Yet this woman was leading her men out to command a desperate battle, from the front line, with no battle experience of her own. The former soldier watched her turn back for the door, unable to formulate any response.
Elani’tess stepped past the closed weapons locker, barely sparing it a single glance. Her hand fell upon the phaser tucked into her travelling robe’s pocket. She paused, and I’rell found himself watching her movements intently as she looked back at the closed metal locker. Her brow furrowed as she considered. Then, taking out the detached palm unit from her pocket, the queen returned and opened the case. From within she withdrew the butt piece to the pistol and reinstalled the palm unit to the larger device and also took a holster to fit the weapon. Holster and pistol she hung upon the gossamer belt of her gown. Again, her face was engraved with the look of concentration. Next, she drew out a gleaming, new phaser rifle.
I’rell smiled as his queen slung the rifle awkwardly about her right shoulder and headed back for the door. The Prime’s pride in his young ruler was beyond description.
The Trade Square,
Jessa’man’a City,
Goesa’vaina
Lieutenant Alfred Jackson shook his head with distaste as the tall, slim Goesan soldier told his men and he of the fate of his base ship. Endeavour had been crippled, all but destroyed by a Klingon warship. Now they were alone down here, on a foreign planet, light years from nearest aid. The giant human took a deep, satisfying breath of the oppressive, hot air.
This was what he lived for! Unbeatable odds. Desperate situations which allowed him to shine in his duties. He was a born hero. And occasionally, a modest one.
Jackson nodded to the accented soldier, who immediately turned on a heel and ran away on his incredibly long, legs. My but these people were tall! Taller than he, and that was a feat. Alfred was an enormous man, a few inches shy of seven feet in height. Bands of thick muscle coursed over his body beneath pale flesh. Golden hair stood in spiked glory an exact centimeter tall upon his squareish head. Crisp blue eyes surveyed his men.
Only about half of Alfred’s security contingent of 112 had made it down from the ship. The fifty- four that were here were well armed, and they had the support of one shuttlecraft which was just now arriving. He smiled a grim smile as he thought of what that shuttle was packing. When the Klingons arrived planetside, he would have a few surprises for them.
Alfred spun on a heel and faced his nearest subordinate. Ensign Jo Ricci stood at immediate attention under the scrutiny of his commander, rifle held at parade-rest. Jackson maintained the grin. The lieutenant liked the shorthaired kid. He was good in a firefight, and had a penchant for nuclear demolition.
“Ricci! Organize the shuttle crew and off load their ordnance. I want a tactical map of the entire area that will be under the city deflector shield in five mikes. Also, see to it that field water dispensers are set up and running. We can’t have our troops dropping from exhaustion before we even go to battle.”
“Aye, sir!”
“Any medics make it down here?”
“Negative, sir!”
“Very well, carry on.”
Jackson watched the boy turn and trot away toward the grounded shuttle. Yes, with men such as he, they might just win the day. Jackson spread himself around among his men for the next few minutes, assisting them in setting up semi-portable deflector generators and field generators. He inspected armor and saw to it that all weaponry was in full operational readiness. The sand and the heat seemed to be having no immediate adverse affects on his gear. This was good.
As his men got into the groove of readying their defenses, Jackson took a moment to study the tactical map Ricci had had brought to him. This city was an ancient one, with sprawling mazes of criss-crossing streets running in every imaginable direction. This would make organizing his men a nightmare, but also meant that attacking this place would be near to impossible. He did not envy the Klingons.
“Security officer!”
Jackson quirked an eyebrow and turned slowly toward the loud feminine voice. A single, slight picture of a woman was leading a procession of Goesan soldiers his direction. She wore a slim, form-fitting gown with a thick traveling garment thrown back over her narrow shoulders. A Starfleet-issue rifle was held in her tiny hands, in a manner showing near complete unfamiliarity with the weapon. Jackson resisted the urge to crack a smirk at the Goesan queen. At least she was actually out here with her men, out on the battlefield. Most rulers and planetary officials would be well hidden and well guarded in a protected bunker with a handy escape route planned for them. But this Jessa’tae was brave enough to come out here and give her all and risk her own life. He couldn’t help but be impressed.
Not to mention aroused…
As she drew to a halt before him, with an enormous, bald soldier close behind, the Jessa’tae squinted at the rank pins painted on his dark skirmish armor. “Lieutenant?”
“Yes, ma’am. Lieutenant Alfred Jackson, chief of security.”
Elani’tess pursed her full lips at the sound of the pride over flowing from that one sentence. “I see, Lieutenant. Are your men very close to being ready?”
“Indeed, ma’am. We’re deploying three units of photon mortar men within the inner defense circle, my officers are dispersing among your own nearby units in groups of four. We’re setting up an inner defense ring of shield generators to protect the command area and our artillery.”
Elani nodded, her emerald eyes wide. The tall man behind her nodded as well, a more solid expression of understanding on his rugged face. This man, obviously a leader, also bore a phaser rifle like to Jackson’s. His manner was reserved and well practiced. He knew how to handle himself.
“Very well, Lieutenant. Is there anything you require to help you integrate what you’ve brought into our defense plan?” The queen asked.
“Yes. I need access to the highest ground possible to mount a Type-4 phaser cannon. The weapon has a fifty-two kilometer range within atmosphere and if we can get the tallest vantage possible, the field of fire we’ll be able to cover would be devastating.”
Elani stood silent for a moment, and Jackson began to wonder if the woman was really up to the task of running this show. Finally, though, she looked up to the soldier beside her. “Prime Coarus, would you agree that the Alabaster Library would field the greatest vantage?”
Coarus nodded, stern eyes boring into the human.
“The library of the High Temple. But the library has the more level roof with fewer obstructions. Yes, the library would do.”
Elani’tess looked back to the Starfleet man. “Coordinate with Dashak Prime Coarus in all emplacement matters, Lieutenant. He stands as my military aid in this trial. He will be the one to get things done.”
With trained respect, the Dashak Prime bowed at the compliment, and Alfred found himself bowing as well. This soldier’s mannerisms were not just drilled. He made such offerings out of genuine respect for his lady, and did so as though he could imagine no other way. Jackson decided that he liked this man.
Elani’tess centered her eyes on the lieutenant suddenly then, her expression questing.
“Lieutenant Jackson, in your experience, what will the Klingons do? What will their exact actions against our defense be?”
Jackson gave her a satisfied smile. She was indeed wise.
“I depends upon whether they intend to take your civilization intact, my lady. If not, then all our preparations will be useless. They’ll bombard the cities and any military asset from orbit and never set foot on these sands until everything is wiped out.” Jackson paused, watching the blood drain from the Jessa’tae’s face. “But if that were the case, our friends in orbit would have already started the operation. They’ve shown by their attack on my ship that they’re impetuous. Likely it’s a new commander eager to make a name for himself in Imperial service.
“Given that, their first objective will be to take the capitol. To do so, they’ll have to take out the city’s shield generator so they can beam in enough troops to overwhelm your military. To accomplish this, they’ll either strike from low orbit to try and batter the shield down and try to hit the generator as precisely as possible, or they’ll send in a strike team to eliminate it.”
“How could they get a strike team in?” The queen asked, “There are no breaches in the system. Do they have a method of beaming men through?”
“Not that we presently know of, ma’am. But there are ways to disrupt shielding on a highly local scale. Precision disruptor fire followed by a transporter beam. It’s very dangerous and a timing nightmare, but possible. It’s been done.”
“Which do you believe more likely?”
Alfred narrowed his eyes as a hot, sandy wind blew through the narrow streets. He looked about the ancient columns stretching out across the square. He glanced over the robust architecture and the carven, stone statues staring out from nearly every corner and nook. The uneven, rock paved streets rolled between walkways and buildings, over hills and through natural valleys of hard baked earth. The soldiers within view were of the hardy sort. They were well drilled. Their appearance showed this without much scrutiny. Any battle here would be a pitched one. A strategic work of art. And the Klingons would not be able to resist a hands-on duel with these people.
The Starfleet officer looked back to the planet’s ruler.
“They’ll send in a ground team ma’am. I don’t know how they plan to do it, but they’re going to try and spare your city unnecessary damage. They’re strike team will be fast, it’ll be efficient. They’ll be elite. We’ll have to be very vigilant to catch it.
*******************************************************************************
Hope y'all were able to remain awake. Not as much action in this bit, but I'm gearing up. Just finished this tonight, and I barely editted it. Hope it's barable.
Let the mud fly...
Topic: Goesa'vaina (Read 25092 times)