Stephen Berry - The Biofab War

"I gather you plan on our company for a while, then, Captain?" asked John.

D’Trelna smiled. "You listen well, Mr. Harrison. Yes, for a few days, no more. Then, I hope, we can all go our separate ways. Provided events don't overtake us."

"What events, Captain?" asked Greg.

"There are S'Cotar in this solar system-we've already been attacked. And why you're still alive, I don't know," he added, catching their exchange of alarmed glances. "Their usual pattern would have been to purge your planet of you, then expropriate your resources. Although, as Commander L'Wrona told you, sometimes the S'Cotar will infiltrate a planet, toppling it from within even as their fleet attacks. What happens then isn't known-not one of our scouts has ever made it back."

John spoke into the silence. "Why do you need us at all, Captain?"

"The only technology we know," replied the officer, "that could have punched a hole in our Class-One Imperial shield and reassembled your atoms on my deck is an Imperial transport system. One directed by a Colonial Service computer-at least a POCSYM Three. Therefore, I look to the origin of your trip here to find that badly needed transporter.''

He paused as comprehension dawned on the Terrans' faces, then continued slowly, deliberately. "We could just blast in and find it, you know. We'll have your point of origin by now and Implacable is more than a match for your planet's combined defenses.

"But"-he held up a hand as John's face clouded angrily- "not only is it against our law, but human life is becoming a rarity in the universe. So I can't, won't, demand. I ask. Will you help us?" His voice held a certain tenseness.

John scanned his friends' faces, then turned back to D’Trelna. "We'll be happy to help in any way we can, Captain."

"Thank you," said D’Trelna, relaxing with a slight bow.

"This was the start of our journey, sir," Greg said. Removing the stele from his pocket he handed it to D’Trelna. Borrowed from Bob, then forgotten in the excitement, it had been there since the Clam Shack.

"What do you call this language?" the XO asked, removing his translator to hear the intonation.

"Egyptian."

Smiling, he nodded and replaced his earpiece. "We call it I'Gopta. It was a colonial language of the Empire-one of a family of hieroglyphic languages used to reestablish the tools of written communication among lost colonies sunken to barbarism."

Handing it back, he asked, "How did you come by it?"

Succinctly as possible, Zahava, John and Greg told the story. The K'Ronarin officers listened attentively, interrupting only to ask sharp, precise questions. When the Terrans had finished, the food was cold and the cups empty.

L'Wrona collected the plates, dumping them down a disposer. "Sounds like you stumbled onto an at least partially functioning Imperial base," he said, resuming his seat. "Maybe even a full Colonial Service planetary installation with defenses intact.

"Which," he added thoughtfully, "would explain why a S'Cotar garrison isn't now nestled among your rotting corpses."

"But it wasn't a very large place, just a few rooms," protested Zahava.

"Oh, it need not have been," said D’Trelna. "If there is a transport system, it would girdle the planet. You could have been in just one station. We may assume the computer's functioning, judging from the way you were forced into the transporter web."

"Just before your arrival," L'Wrona said, "a S'Cotar assault unit teleported aboard from a satellite base orbiting the fourth planet. They and their base were destroyed, but not before they got off a distress call. Enemy reinforcements could be here in as little as a day. It's vital that we land and remove whatever equipment we can."

"Vital to whom?" John frowned. "If the only thing preventing the S'Cotar from slaughtering four billion Terrans is that system, you surely don't plan to tamper with it?"

The Captain looked him in the eye. "I hope it isn't a question of choosing which of our peoples is to survive," he said carefully. "I've already sent for reinforcements, but the S'Cotar fleet is much closer than our own. If we can recover the nexus of a transport system, my duty is to take it at once to a Confederation base. We've already lost some fifteen billion people behind that red veil, and each day the S'Cotar press their attacks more boldly. Without that transporter, we fall.

And then the day that ancient computer on your planet fails, or the S'Cotar find a way to defeat it, your billions will join ours in death.

"In tactics and initiative, we're superior," he continued. "With the transporter, we can nullify the advantage the S'Cotar's teleportation abilities give them. We'll crush them.

"I hope the price of their defeat won't be another planet- yours. But if it is, so be it. I'll sacrifice Terra as readily as I would a K'Ronarin world."

D'Trelna rose. "Commander L'Wrona will show you to your quarters. Get some rest. We'll be landing in six hours."

Before the Terrans could speak, the Captain was gone and L'Wrona was ushering them down the corridor.

Stephen Ames Berry

The Biofab War

D'trelna was sure he'd just closed his eyes when K'Raoda signaled. "Captain, we're now orbiting the third planet."

Groaning, he rolled over and pressed a wall switch. "It's called Terra," he grunted. "Place us in synchronous orbit over our guests' point of origin and ask them to the bridge. I'll be right there. And wake L'Wrona up," he added maliciously, rolling to his feet.

"But sir, he just went to his cabin."

"Thin people don't need as much sleep, Subcommander," said D'Trelna, sitting up. "Get him up."

"We'll set you down with the landing party," he said to the Terrans a few moments later. The bags under their eyes told of a sleepless offwatch. In their boots, you'd be a bit upside down, too, he thought. "I'd appreciate your showing Subcommander K'Raoda the site and acting as liaison when local authorities arrive."

"You anticipate detection?" asked John.

The Captain nodded. "Implacable's shielded, but the shuttle's not. It will knife past your air defenses before a single fighter can be launched. But I'm sure its landing point will be quickly found." He smiled. "I'd like to be in your defense headquarters for the next few hours, watching the fun.

"Good luck. K'Raoda, if you need-"

He was interrupted by a cry of "Enemy contact!"

"Report," ordered D'Trelna, whirling to face L'Wrona.

"Three vessels," the XO responded, slender fingers playing over his console, eyes scanning the readout. "Just came out of hyperdrive almost exactly where we did. At present course and speed, about five hours to contact."

"Can you make out their type?" asked the Captain, sinking into the command chair.

"Running an analysis now." Then: "Three heavy cruisers of the new 'Berserker' class."

D'Trelna ignored K'Raoda's astonished whistle.

"They've undoubtedly detected us," said L'Wrona, turning from the screen. "S'Cotar cruisers have gear as good as our own."

"We can't outfight three heavy cruisers, Captain," K'Raoda said, walking toward his station. He left four very worried Terrans standing by the door. "Shall we prepare for hyperspace?"

"You run, Captain," said John, grim-faced, "and you'll leave four billion humans defenseless before those-''

D'Trelna jabbed a blunt finger at the angry Terran.

"Don't tell me my duty!" he snapped. "I commanded Dauntless at T'Qar-a relic against a S'Cotar flotilla. I lost two hundred good men, but we bought time for an evacuation convoy.

"You are, however, correct," he said in a softer tone, temper recovered. "I can't run. Not without knowing if those hypothetical Imperial defenses would protect you from a very real enemy. We stand."