“I believe that wraps up these proceedings of War,” said the Bonthan Admiral. She was an imposing hexapod, towering 4 meters tall, and her carapace displayed a dozen medals stapled into her bony exoskeleton, a record of military victories a permanent fixture of her body. She was tired of this meeting. Another upstart species on the fringe of League space, and another interminable meeting about which member species ships would be selected in the line of battle to put the upstarts in their place. She surveyed the long, raised table in front of her, flanked on each side by the ranking members of the League Galactic’s Security Council. Below the table, the delegations of lesser council species and junior members stood, perched, sat or coiled depending on their respective physiologies. Admiral Nuryaw sat at the head of the table, flanked by her species’ ambassador’s to the League, befitting her position as the leader of the most powerful military in the security council, and therefore its chair-being.
Her medals clanked at her chest carapace as she raised her gavel-stone in her grasping-hoof to dismiss the council, seeing the colored holograms that signaled [approval] blink into existence above the various delegations at the table and the council floor as they keyed in their assent on their speaking stones. She was about to rap the gavel-stone on the table’s surface, when a blinking hologram with the symbols of [dissent] and [request to speak] caught her gaze near the corner of the room, hovering over a delegation far back in the crowd. Some minor race looking to score political points during security proceedings, most likely. As far away from the table as they were, they must have been one of the most junior species present. However, protocol was protocol, and member species were allotted speaking time, after all.
“The War-Council recognizes Ambassador Nesh of the …” Nuryaw paused at the unfamiliar species name, “Dreeden people. You may speak.”
On large holo-screens floating high-above the council chamber, the view switched from the decorated admiral to a small, bipedal creature with what looked to be huge compound eyes on either side of its bulbous head and upper limbs that ended in a myriad of short, writhing tentacles.
The Dreeden Ambassador only stood one meter in height, but his voice reached the entire war-council without the need for amplification. “If it may please the security council, the Dreeden Republic would yield it’s time to a non-voting member species.”
This caused a stir on the council floor, as delegations whispered to each other. A junior council species yielding what little time the council allotted them on the floor to a non-voting species? This breach of protocol was unheard of. What could a species so new or so minor that they had not achieved voting status in the league have to add to a council of war? Delegations that had a neck to crane now did so, looking at the holo-screens to try to get a better look at the Dreeden Ambassador.
Nuryaw motioned the delegations to silence with a wave of her fore-hoof. “If only to sate the council’s curiosity, the request is granted. The Ambassador from Dreeden may yield his time.”
“Thank you, Admiral.” The ambassador passed his speaking stone to a delegation directly to their right. “The Dreeden yield their time to representatives of the Terran People. May I introduce to you Ambassador Baden Woods and Admiral Patricia Davies of the Associated Republics of Terra.”
Another bipedal figure accepted the Dreedle’s speaking stone. This “Terran” stood twice the height of Ambassador Dreeden. Other than the species possessing two limbs for locomotion and two arms for grasping, not much else was discernible to Nuryaw, as the entire Terran delegation seemed to be wearing full environmental suits with entirely opaque helmets. Nonetheless, there was something about their appearance that made Admiral Nuryaw uneasy, as if these Terrans tickled a half-forgotten memory.
Nuryaw saw that she wasn’t the only one to be discomfited by the appearance of these Terrans. To her left, the Arkone ambassador had partially withdrawn into his shell, while the Queel Admiral at the foot of the table flicked its mandibles in agitation. What horrors must lurk under that mask! Nuryaw was under no illusions that species found each other pleasing to the eye, but these Terrans must be hideous indeed to elicit such a reaction! Her discomfort was quickly replaced by amusement by the thought and turned to listen to what this Terran delegation could hope to add to the proceedings, while idly calling up information on the species on her holo-screen.
“Honorable Species of the League, Admiral Nuryaw, we thank you for your time. You do our young species honor to have our words heard by species as wise and as powerful as yours. You have fought many wars, and won many victories.” The human ambassador took a long pause. “Unfortunately, we do not believe this strike against the Rashan will be one of them.”
If the spectacle unfolding on the security council chamber floor didn’t have every delegation’s attention before, it certainly did now. Nuryaw’s hackle-spines raised along her back. “You presume too much, calfling.” While the information about the Terrans she had been able to pull up on her screen was surprisingly sparse, with remarkably little about the physiology of the creatures beneath their environmental suits, the entry about how recently they became a space-faring species told her enough. “The Bonth were fighting interstellar war while your species was using stone tools. You jeopardize your future membership in the league by presuming you have a superior military analysis of the situation.” Around the Security Council chambers, [assent] was signaled by most of the delegations.
“You are correct, of course, Admiral, with the Bonth leading its fleets, the League has prospered for millennia. We do not assume to question your tactical analysis, but only to suggest that it was made with incomplete information.” Ambassador Woods replied. “We have reason to believe that the Rashan will not wage war in the manner that you expect. We believe that they are a predator species.”
Nuryaw stifled a laugh. “A predator species? A sentient, space-faring predator species? Don’t waste our time with that horror story.” Other security council members were not as successful at containing their laughter. “Simple calfing,” Nuryaw sighed, “Three thousand years this League has policed this corner of the Galaxy. Over a thousand sentient species under its protection,” she gestured over the gathered delegations with her fore-hoof. “And never has any of them encountered a sentient – or even close to sentient – predator.”
“Surely you have access to the League’s database. It is the struggle against simple predators that evolves sentience! That forces species to use tools! It was our ancestral struggle as prey that was the crucible that forged every species in this League. Predators? Flesh eaters? Capable of space travel? I’m afraid you are mistaken, Terran.” Nuryaw moved once more to adjourn the session, only to hear the Terran speak once more. Her hackle-spines rose again in agitation, but Ambassador Woods didn’t seem to notice.
“As implausible as it may seem, it is the truth Admiral. Our intelligence sources managed to find visual records of Rashans outside of their combat armor during one of their recent incursions into league space. Those records show that the Rashans have forward-facing eyes, and we believe teeth-analogs that indicate a carnivorous diet. They are predators, and they will wage war like them. Admiral Davies can elaborate, but their tactics will be nothing like those you have fought against before, and if you use the battle plan proposed today, your fleet will not survive.”
Despite the Terran Ambassador’s opaque helmet, Nuryaw felt his gaze on her and again repressed a feeling of unease. What was it about this creature that created that reaction? She brushed the thought aside. “Enough! This council will not be distracted by scientific impossibilities!” Nuryaw once again raised the gavel-stone to adjourn, and grunted with frustration as the symbol for [dissent] blinked insistently above Ambassador Nesh’s head. “You and your pets are trying my patience, Ambassador Nesh.” Nuryaw’s hackle-spines were now fully raised.
“If it may please the security council, we would like to suggest an addendum to the battle plans. It is obvious that our Terran friends are terribly ignorant in the ways of war-making, and have let superstition guide their analysis. Surely they have misinterpreted the data. We believe that this could be a learning experience for such a young species, however. What better way for the Terrans to see that there is nothing to fear than to see the League in action?”, the Dreeden Ambassador implored. “Let the Dreeden military escort a small contingent of Terran ships to observe the battle to see for themselves that the mighty League fleet led by the Bothian vanguard will easily route the Rashan from the field.”
Nuryaw waved a fore-hoof in exasperation. “If that is what it will take for the Dreeden to quit interrupting these proceedings, then so be it. I will not have their ships interfering with my line of battle, however.”
“Of course not, Admiral,” Nesh bowed in the direction of the table. “We would only ask that our escorts and Terran calflings be allowed to engage any targets of opportunity, so that we may have the honor in fighting alongside a League battlefleet.”
“You ask for much, but I see no reason to deny your request. How votes the council?”
[Assent] appeared across the council chambers, and finally, Nuryaw was able to bring the gavel-stone down. As the delegations filtered out of the meeting hall, however, Nuryaw pondered her screen. Of course, the Terran’s claims were preposterous, but what was it about their appearance that bothered her so much, and why wasn’t she able to find any information on what they looked like under those suits?
—
“Calflings?” Ambassador Baden Woods protested as he poured the much smaller Dreeden ambassador a finger of whiskey from a cut crystal decanter into a rocks glass wrapped in Nesh’s tentacles. The room was well appointed, with paintings of landscapes from Earth and its colonies on the walls. Comfortable looking chairs sat facing a massive walnut desk. It was a cosmological and biological fluke that humans and the Dreeden had analogous enough chemistry to enjoy ethanol in a similar manner It made interspecies negotiations and state-dinners much more enjoyable however, and being able to hash out policy issues over a glass of scotch or Pilak was one of the many reasons that the Dreeden and humans were so close as species.
Ambassador Nesh looked somewhat comical sitting in the overstuffed leather lounge chair in Ambassador Baden’s study, feet dangling off the ground. “It worked, didn’t it Baden? You can now get your ships in and have tactical freedom in the battlespace. Isn’t that what Admiral Davies wanted?”
“What I wanted was to have this attack called off in the first place,” a statuesque woman with close-cropped salt and pepper hair and piercing blue eyes said as she entered the room, taking the decanter from Baden’s hands and helping herself to a rock glass. “Gods it’s good to be out of that contact suit. I swear my environmental system was set ten degrees too high.”
“We knew that changing their plan wasn’t going to happen, Admiral. The security council and Nuryaw have done things the same way for millennia, and they feel, to borrow a human phrase: if it is not damaged, then why repair it?”
“You’re right Ambassador, changing Nuryaw’s mind was probably out of the question,” Baden said, sipping from his glass as he leaned back on to his desk. “But Admiral Davies is right as well. This battle will be a disaster, and a lot of sentients will die because we weren’t able to convince the security council today. Now it’s up to Patricia and your commanders to figure out a way to save as many of them as possible.”
The two Ambassadors and the Admiral stared into their glasses.
“I can’t help wonder if it would have helped for us to take our helmets off, to show them what we were,” Patricia mused, taking a slow sip.
Nesh shook his head sadly. “We’ve been over this Admiral Davies. You know the reaction that my species had when you made contact with us. Predators in space! You’re the very things that our science-fiction authors have used for imaginary villains for centuries, and that swarm-mothers frighten their hatchlings with. I’m not sure if you can ever understand the instinctual reaction that we experienced when we encountered your species. We killed the last predator that preyed on our kind thousands of years ago, but still, we felt nothing but fear when we first saw you.
“If you had taken off your helmet in that council session, the only thing you would have accomplished was to start a stampede that would have killed delegates, which isn’t a good opening argument. Gods knows where our relations would be if it weren’t for the Vert slavers posing a common threat. Even then, after your fleet rescued our people held captive by the Vert when the League wouldn’t lift a finger, we still had those among us who wondered if you had eaten a few Dreeden on the way back.” Nesh sighed. “No, they are not ready for the Terran’s secret yet, and even if they were, it would not have swayed them from their plan.”
Nesh’s wide-set compound eyes glinted in the dim light of the study. “Are you still planning on leading the mitigation force yourself Patricia? I’ll owe you a bottle of single-malt Pilak when this is all over.”
—
“Line of Battle transit complete Admiral Nuryaw!”
Nuryaw nodded to the over-enthusiastic Vice-Admiral. “Status report please.” It felt good to be away from the security council chamber and back on the bridge of her flagship, Flashing Hooves. Three million tons of warship vibrated beneath her, and it was hers to command. The battle-couch conformed to her carapace as she leaned toward her tactical screens, watching the other ships in her fleet pop into existence as light from their arrival reached the Hooves. 14 other Bothian dreadnaughts like her own made up the vanguard of the fleet, while the rest of the primary security council species contributed their own dreadnaught contingents. Less dominant species contributed battleship squadrons, while the least powerful among them made up the fleet train of tenders and supply ships.
“Fleet is reporting in at 99.5% Admiral. It looks like we lost two Queel battleships in a transit interpolation.”
Nuryaw’s hackle-spines rose in frustration. An interpolation was just bad luck writ large and was considered a bad omen before a battle. No matter how accurate the jump plotting, a transit jump from star-system to star system invariably scattered the vessels making the leap across millions of miles upon re-entry into real-space. That scattering made interpolations incredibly rare, but they did sometimes happen, and when two ships tried to re-enter normal space in the same place, the laws of physics objected strenuously, generally in the form of an explosion.
“Tactical report Vice-Admiral?.”
“System is as scans reported it before the jump Admiral. As far as we can tell this is a Rashan manufacturing colony that they’ve been using as a base for their expeditions into league space. Four planets, one gas giant in the outer orbit, two small rocky planets, and one large rocky planet closest to the sun in the Goldilocks zone with multiple moons, all with infrastructure.”
“I read the briefing packet as well,” Nuryaw said icily. “What is the disposition of Rashan forces in the system?”
“We’re showing a large Rashan fleet between the orbits of the third and fourth planets. Direct line intercept takes us within 2 million miles of the gas giant.”
“Make it so.” Nuryaw pointed a grasping-hoof forward, toward the waiting Rashan Fleet.
The ships of the League crawled forward, moving into a wall of battle as they did. Behind the fleet, more vessels blinked into existence.
“Admiral, fleet train is arriving, as well as civilian observation ships.”
“Very well, have them hang well back, we don’t want one them getting a stray laser through their hull.”
“Yes Admiral. Fleet train and civilians will maintain distance from the engagement.”
A new mass of ships blinked into existence on Nuryaw’s holo-screen. “That’s not the fleet train.”
“No Admiral, it appears to be the Dreeden contingent with their human observers.” The vice-admiral squinted at a tactical screen. “Their jump spacing is surprisingly tight.”
Nuryaw grunted. She had noticed how tightly packed the ships were as well, exiting jump-space in neat formation, rather than scattered over several million kilometers like the rest of the Security Council joint fleet. “It could be the Dreeden kept some of their jump technology from us when they joined the League – make a note for an investigation committee once we return.”
The Dreeden-Human fleet was an odd composition. Instead of battleships and dreadnaughts, the force was comprised of many smaller ships, not fit for the League battle-line. There were two larger vessels, but they appeared to be support vessels rather than warships, with few weapons visible to Naryaw’s dreadnaught’s powerful scanners. Lighter spacecraft that appeared to Nuryaw to be only frigates and destroyers, some with Dreeden ID codes, screened the two support ships. Near the center of the formation, two cruiser-sized ships joined the massive support craft.
“Hmmph,” Naryaw flicked a grasping hoof dismissively. “It is no wonder the humans thought this battle was lost. They don’t even know how to form a proper wall of battle. Vice-Admiral, it’s time to show them and the Rashan why the Bonthan battle-fleet has not been bested in millennia. Plot an intercept with the Rashan fleet and take us in.”
—
“There’s still time for you to leave before the battle, Ambassador Nesh.“
“We’ve been over this before, Admiral Davies, and I feel that it’s only right that I see this through.” Nesh tried and failed to inject more confidence into his words than he was feeling. He stood in front of a Dreeden-sized acceleration couch on the flag bridge of the fleet carrier ARTS Helena, to the side of Admiral Patricia Davies in her command chair. The flag bridge hummed with activity, as enlisted personnel and officers leaned over banks of terminals, monitoring communications and scanners, updating the tac-plot that dominated the center of the bridge, and coordinating the thirty-two ships that made up the small joint-fleet.
“I’m the one that suggested that you bring your fleet to a battle that you expect to lose. I can’t expect thousands of humans and my people to put their lives at risk without doing the same. Besides, the bureaucrats at the League wouldn’t let this observation fleet exist unless it was accompanied by an official council representative, and as humans aren’t a member species yet….”
“You’re right, Ambassador. And I have to say, if more human politicians were like you, putting themselves on the front lines of a battle because they supported it, we probably would have had fewer wars through the years.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the Admiral’s flag-lieutenant. “Ma’am, the League fleet has begun to accelerate well-ward. Estimates show that they will cross the orbit of the gas giant in 13 hours.”
“Thank you, lieutenant.” Admiral Davies manipulated her console, patching her through to the captains of her small fleet. “All ships, set condition three. Maintain current relative position. No flight ops from any ships without my direct orders.”
In the flag bridge, the red lights that had bathed the room were replaced with standard lighting as the ship stood down from condition one.
“Why not launch the fighters Admiral? In every operation I’ve observed before, your carrier’s launch their CAP as soon as they exit their jump.” Nesh asked.
“Currently, the Rashan don’t know we use small craft. I’d like to keep it that way as long as we can.” The admiral ran a hand through her close-cropped hair. “Get some rest Ambassador. I just hope that we’ll be able to save some of them.”
Nesh nodded and turned to leave the flag bridge. “So do I, Admiral. So do I.”
—-
The battle-wall of the League fleet closed with the Rashan forces arrayed to face them. From Naryaw’s view-screens, a small, orange disk came into view, the outermost planet of the system.
“Has there been any changes in the disposition of the Rashan fleet Vice-Admiral?”
“No admiral Naryaw, they are still arrayed in a small wall of battle, facing our approach.” The vice-admiral switched the main view screen to a representation of the Rashan fleet. “We count five dreadnaughts and 18 battleships, plus a surprisingly large amount of cruiser and destroyer sized vessels.”
“Re-broadcast our demand to surrender, vice-admiral. While I’m impressed such a minor species can field that many dreadnaughts, if they fight, it will be a short engagement.”
Naryaw hoped they didn’t surrender. It had been too long since she had led the Flashing Hooves in battle. She also took some satisfaction in knowing that she would be showing those impertinent Dreeden and Humans how a league battle-fleet waged war.
“Admiral, we’re receiving a transmission from the Dreeden-Human joint fleet.”
Naryaw turned to the communications officer. “Well, what is it?”
“It’s from the human Admiral. It’s is a warning. They believe that there is a second Rashan fleet hidden in the gas giant. They advise that we adjust course to veer away from the planet, and then re-approach so that our wall of battle faces both the Rashan fleet and the planet.”
Naryaw snorted angrily. “Remind the human admiral,” Naryaw chewed out each world, “That they are here as observers, not tactical advisors. If they offer any more unsolicited advice, their participation in this battle even in observer capacity will be terminated.” The gall! Naryaw realized that her hackle-spines were nearly fully extended, and made a conscious effort to retract them. It wasn’t seemly for her to seem agitated in front of the crew. “And ask what possible reason the human admiral would have to suspect there to be another Rashan force hidden in the gas giant.”
Naryaw fumed as they waited for a reply. Without FTL communication, the delay was maddening.
“Admiral Naryaw, the humans conveyed their apologies, and have said that they will not make further tactical suggestions.” The comm officer paused, as the remainder of the message was received. “As to why they suspect a second Rashan fleet, the human admiral has replied with “Because that is what I would do.””
“And that is why they are with the supply ships, and we are with the battlefleet.” The vice-admiral chuckled.
“They are cowards,” Naryaw scoffed. “Tell them to watch the fleet carefully. We will show them what honor looks like.”
__
Five hours later, the League wall of battle made contact with the Rashan fleet.
At the center of the battle-wall, Flashing Hooves fired the first salvo, wide-beam lasers reaching out across the void to the Rashan ships. The lasers themselves were invisible, but this near to a gravity well, the interplanetary medium had a density of 5 atoms per cubic centimeter, enough to create sparkling trails of excited hydrogen in the wake of each beam.
Moments later, the rest of the fleet joined in. Scores of dreadnaughts and over a hundred battleships joined their fire to the Flashing Hooves, and the space between the fleets was awash with deadly laser fire.
“Good hits on Rashan dreadnaughts,” The vice-admiral reported. “Damage estimates are lower than expected, however. It seems their forward armor is thicker than anticipated.”
“No matter,” Naryaw replied. “Continue to close range and have the fleet narrow their beam focus for better armor penetration.” Naryaw blinked as one of the view screens flashed white as a ship in the Rashan formation exploded in a shower of fire.
“That was one of their battleships, Admiral. The first kill is ours.”
“And their response?”
“None yet admiral, they are holding their position and have not yet returned fire.”
“Strange,” muttered Naryaw. “If they can’t match our weapons range, I would expect them to attempt to close the range as quickly as possible. Are we close enough for a visual of a Rashan ship? Put it on screen. It’s time we see what we’re dealing with.”
The main holo-screen flared to life, with an image of one of the Rashan dreadnaughts. Naryaw felt a chill go through her bones, and her hackle-spines began to extend unconsciously. She was not the only one on the Flashing Hooves’ bridge with that reaction, she noticed. The Rashan ship was shaped like a blunted wedge, with numerous forward facing weapon placements. The rear of the wedge tapered slightly until the taper reversed as it met huge engine cowlings at the anterior of the ship. Where League ships were almost always shaped like half-spheres, presenting a hedgehog-like array of defenses and weaponry to the enemy while the flat portion of the flat sphere contained their engines, the Rashan ship appeared to be designed for pursuit.
Unbidden, the memory of the council meeting flashed in Naryaw’s mind: We believe they are a predator species.
Naryaw shook herself, metals ratting on her carapace. She was a Bonthan! Leader of the combined fleet! She would not let herself be unnerved by this opponent, especially one that had not even drawn blood. Still, she didn’t want to look at the ship on screen any longer. “That’s enough, vice-admiral.”
—-
“They’re just sitting there.” If Nesh had eyelids, he would have squinted at the tac-plot. As it was, he leaned forward in his acceleration couch. “And no return fire? What are the Rashan doing?”
Icons on the holographic tac-plot showed the League fleet closing with the Rashan battle-wall, which held its position.
Admiral Davies sighed. “It’s as I feared. They’re letting the League fleet come to them, drawing them core-ward. Once they League fleet is fully committed, they’ll make their move.”
“Isn’t there something we can do Admiral?”
Admiral Davies shook her head. “I don’t think there is, Ambassador. Every attempt at warning Admiral Naryaw has been rebuffed. I’m afraid if we press the issue we’ll be ordered to jump out of the system. All we can do now is try and ensure that some of the League fleet lives through the day.”
Suddenly, the tac-plot shifted. The Rashan battle-wall dissolved in space, reforming into arrow-shaped formations that began to accelerate toward the League ships. From each Rashan battleship and dreadnought, more icons emerged, hundreds of tiny contacts on the tac-plot.
“They’ve released skirmishers, Admiral.” Davie’s flag-lieutenant reported.
“I want full power to our scanners, launch recon drones,” the Admiral replied. “I want as much data from this engagement as possible. Set condition two throughout the fleet.”
Davies turned back to Nesh, seated at her side. “It’s begun. I’ll have to ask you to hold your questions for the time being, Ambassador Nesh.”
“Of course, Admiral,” Nesh nodded. “Flight your fleet, and good luck to you.”