The Terpla'ns - Chapter 2

The Terpla’ns - Chapter 2

Eyna Huj, senator from the Terpla’n settled world of Yoshibo, was entertaining a guest in his office. Located in the senate building on Terpla, the office had a view of the interior courtyard. Looking out at that courtyard with Eyna was the new homeworld senator, Sal Jki. Short for a Terpla’n, Sal won the senate seat in part to his daughter Tulcus’ fame as well as his own political acumen. Having an offspring that was a war veteran and the head of the strikefighter project did wonders for Sal’s senatorial campaign. “So this is the view I can expect from my office,” said Sal between sips of green tea. “Too bad there are no balconies.”
     “A fact you can chalk up to design committee,” mused Eyna. “Some effort had to be shown in saving construction cost. So no balconies, as well as the installation of only half the restrooms.”
     “Hmm. I’ll just have to schedule my breaks accordingly.” Sal took a seat offered by Eyna. “Now, what’s this idea you want to float past me?”
      Eyna sat in a chair to the right of Sal. “As you know I’m considered one of the prime movers in the senate, and I certainly didn’t ask you to visit just for the scenery and the tea.”
      Sal rolled his eyes, which appeared humorous to everyone including Terpla’ns. “You’re working awfully fast to enlist my aid, as junior as I am,” he said. “Is this just for long-term mutual benefit or something more immediate in mind?”
     “I usually take my time, Sal, but I’m pressed to explain my idea before you’re exposed to the likes of Senators Salka and Quan.”
     “Oh, those two,” Sal said with a dismissive wave of the hand. “I’ve dealt with curmudgeons like them before in my political career. I’m considerably more open-minded.”
     Eyna blinked both sets of eyelids in a sign of agreement. “Good, for I need open-minded people to hear out my idea. The Republic has contacted and entered in trade or better treaty relationships with eleven races, including the UWL last month. So far we’ve been lucky in regards to wars. We’ve just had one and stopped another between two allies. However, in the area of business and economics there’s been far more activity.”
      “I agree,” said Sal. “I lost money in the current market downturn. Scratch that, we’re in a recession thanks to the interdependencies of the economies of our various allies. The collapse of the Tuphonese stock market has affected everyone, even the Bulan and Sertucon. It’ll be years before I see a single credit in compensation from the bankrupt Tuphonese company I invested in. Their courts aren’t noted for their speed or impartiality.”
     Eyna snapped his fingers. “There you have it, Sal. A situation made all the more difficult due to a lack of universal laws. Thanks to unscrupulous Tuphonese investors, along with some of our own people, loopholes were used to play fast and loose with the law as well as the market. What I propose is a compact of governance, a commonwealth of nations sharing a unified outlook and laws that help instead of being use as illicit tools for greed.”
     “You may be on to something, Eyna. Things tend to work out better if everyone is reading off the same page. I imagine the legal portion of this ‘commonwealth’ would focus primarily on trade laws and market regulation?”
     “It does. There are some practices that are best left as-is. I for one don’t intend on getting involved in Bulan marriage law and property ownership.”
     “Aye,” Sal chuckled. “That I can agree on. As for your idea I will have to weigh the pros and cons. I imagine that you’ve thought of all the angles, including those fossils Salka and Quan. That’s not even mentioning those businesses that’ll resent losing their loopholes and the new laws.”
     A soft chime had Eyna stand and go to his desk. “That was on top of my list, Sal. There will be resistance, but I believe we have the best opportunity now. Half-way fixes will only insure the next market collapse would just be as bad if not worse.” A small screen built into the desktop glowed. Eyna took it in with just one glance. “Hmm. We’ve been called into a special session. It’ll start in an hour.”
     Sal’s minicomp had also chimed. He looked at the device’s tiny screen with bemusement. “So we are. No reason given. Is this going to be some sort of initiation for first-time senators?”
     “No, they don’t call special sessions for that, Sal. Something dire had to happen.”

The senate chamber was small but full. All twenty senators were in attendance, including President Phelan. News of the 3rd Survey Squadron demise required five days to reach the homeworld. It required Senator Buntu from Kiosho only three seconds to respond after hearing the report prepared by the Navy. “If it had to happen again,” said Buntu so harshly so as to cause feedback into the PA system, “then the odds should’ve been better. Where were the Professors?”
     Also in attendance was Admiral Marse, Chief of Naval Operations, Republic Space Fleet. Having been the one that presented the report Marse responded immediately. “The three ships in question, Senator Buntu,” Marse’s emphasis on the number was no accident, “were carrying out their survey of the Palm Grove system at the time. As you know, refitting of existing units took precedence over new construction for the past year.”
     The blood vessels at the back of Buntu’s eyes became quite clear as they responded to his anger. “Don’t lay the blame on us, silver-tin. Your own harping to incorporate new tech in massive refits, not to mention developing strikefighters, left very little in the way to build new ships. Indeed, most of the new construction was for bases that are three-and-a-half times bigger than the current ones. Had those Professors been present then they could’ve handled those three small cruisers and three destroyers. Instead we lost all six survey frigates and the crews of half of them.”
     “Strange,” said Marse with sincerity, “I seem to recall those fortifications were called for by a particularly nervous senator in case a resurgent UWL. You persuaded your colleagues well enough.”
     “Enough,” said Phelan, preventing the exchange from deteriorating further. Buntu’s eyes were visibly throbbing – a sure sign of Terpla’n anger. This wasn’t the time for another lively exchange between the CNO and a senator with an axe to grind. “We’re facing a new threat. This new enemy didn’t bother to wait; they starting firing even before the first contact message was finished transmitting. Only three pinnaces managed to escape. The warp point in the system of encounter was closed, but it’s a certainty the enemy followed them and discovered the location.” Phelan gave Marse an expectant look. “Admiral, I take it that contingency plans have been activated?”
     “Yes, Mr. President. The support group for the three survey squadrons has emplaced buoys and mines at the warp point leading to the Contact system in accordance to standing orders. Task Group 111 is three jumps from the Coral Bridge system and is expected to arrive there in 24 days. Task Groups 112 and 113 will arrive at Coral Bridge in 32 and 35 days respectively. Each task group has an attached support element, complete with mine patterns and buoys, allowing for additional defense of the warp point leading to the Contact system.”
     “Very good, Admiral,” Phelan said approvingly. “Defense of the Coral Bridge system will be the main mission of the RSF. Establishing contact with the aliens will still be attempted, but if they continue to shoot on sight then we’ll have to gain information from captured personnel and data.” The President thought for a moment. “You are authorized to send in additional ships as you see fit, including the carriers if you so advise. Official print orders will be on your desk by midnight.”
     Marse blinked his eyes in consent. “We only have four small carriers available for operations at the moment. Six more will be commissioned in three months time. The travel time between Terpla and Coral Bridge is 50 days at carrier cruising speed. I’ll run the numbers with my staff and see if eight squadrons of prototype fighters would make for a worth-while deployment.”
     Phelan acknowledged his admiral. The rest of the meeting dealt with various issues regarding the impending action against the aliens. Emergency funding was authorized to mobilize the rest of the 1st Field Fleet. An official release of the news was scheduled for the next day. After the meeting Sal caught up Eyna. “So what’s the story between Marse and Buntu? Sounds like they have a history.”
     “They do.” Eyna directed Sal out of the room, speaking as they walked. “Marse was a junior lieutenant and Buntu a young administrator when Kiosho was a colony. Both were interested in the same woman, daughter of the planetary governor. Marse won in the end, and despite his ascendancy to the Senate Buntu still holds a grudge. As you may have gathered in the press Buntu opposed the strikefighter project, preferring to spend the funding on new fortifications. Marse, thanks to his own connections, persuaded the other senators to vote for the strikefighter. It’s just another in a series of terse exchanges between them for the past decade when Marse became CNO.”
     “I see,” Sal commented. “I’ll be mindful of what I say around Buntu. As for your idea I’ll give it some thought, but this unfolding action would put any talk about a Commonwealth on the back burner for the foreseeable future.”
     “On the back burner but not forgotten, Sal. I’ll remind the public on how we got into the recession in the first place when the economy gets the inevitable war boost.”

The combat information center on the Imperial Codec was bustling with activity. Lord Admiral Dornal, Commander of the Second Segment of the Home Fleet, Imperium Space Navy, viewed the huge hologram with guarded satisfaction. After waiting for enough ships to be recommissioned from mothball storage the INS launched a true assault through the closed warp point in the Forum System. Previously three small probes were conducted, only to be ejected by the aliens’ defenses on the far side. The First Segment was badly handled by the laser buoys and minefields in what came to be called the Frontier System. Strangely, in all four instances there were no alien ships present save two. Positioned at maximum capital missile range from the warp point, the two battlecruiser-sized vessels obviously held the buoy control systems. Those vessels fled once the First Segment breached the minefield. Dornal dispatched two small scouts to follow them.
     Dornal brushed off some imaginary lint from the dark red sleeves of his tunic. It struck him as stupid that the first encounter with the aliens turned out the way it did. Over two months ago the Forum patrol commander detected a squadron of alien ships in the outer reaches of the system. Rendezvousing just beyond the orbit of the gas giant, the aliens transmitted what later was determined to be a first contact message. The commander, however, was instantly unsettled by the image of the aliens. Before the transmission was complete the commander, reacting out of instinct instead of reason, ordered his ships to open fire. The Imperium had never encountered an alien race, even a pre-industrial one, throughout its history and it wasn’t the lack of trying. Only fourteen systems comprised the Imperium and there were no more open warp points to explore. Closed warp points were known as there were two of them in the Imperium. The only way another closed point could be found was if an alien race entered one via the far side. While acknowledged, it had been centuries of peace that made such a possibility extremely remote. Now that it had happened instead of a peaceful contact the Imperium had caused a war.
     All the alien ships were destroyed but three pinnaces escaped and were tracked to their entry point. There were no lifepods to pick up thanks to the firepower employed by the patrol. The aliens had conducted two warp point probes of their own over the last two months. Nothing larger than a light cruiser was used. Technically they were at least the same level the ISN was 100 years previous, having shown the use of close assault missiles and datalink point defense. Having violated the integrity of the Imperium by accident once, these two probes convinced the Emperor that the aliens’ intent was hostile. Dornal’s mission was to engage the aliens and secure several prisoners. More information on the aliens was needed.
     The First Segment, due to the previous probes, was too depleted to conduct offensive operations. Dornal left it behind at the warp point to guard it and assist the minesweepers in clearing the remaining mine patterns. In addition to the two fleeing buoy tenders there was a third contact, thirty-six light minutes out. Believing it to be an alien fleet, he sent a scout to investigate it. Assuming the contact maintained its current course and speed the scout will come within detailed scanner range in less than twelve hours.

In the end the decision was made to send the carriers. The prime reason was to test the strikefighters in actual combat conditions. An undeniable success would lead to an accelerated carrier construction and pilot training program. Media outlets played up the deployment like it was championship game, complete with discussions between experts, self-appointed or otherwise. Needless to say the progress of the ships passing through the intervening systems was tracked with high interest.
     The Couts arrived at Coral Bridge five days before the aliens made their successful assault. Admiral Ayrth decided not to have any of his tasks groups in close to support the buoys and mines. He wanted the aliens to feel confident enough to send in what they believed to be an adequate force. Task Group 111 was the closest of the three to the warp point in question. A scout determined the size and composition of the alien fleet, leaving Ayrth to decide that TG 111, along with its 48 prototype fighters, was strong enough to engage them alone.
     On the escort carrier Cout the pilot briefing room was like a university lecture theatre in miniature. At the base of the theater seating was Captain Tulcus Jki, head of the strikefighter development program and the first carrier squadron commander in RSF history. Already a qualified shuttle pilot, Jki not only helped devised the pilot training curriculum she also participated in it, becoming a qualified strikefigher pilot in the process. She wore the ‘prop and wings’ insignia on her uniform along with the pilot officer badge. Due to her perseverance and leadership the other pilots in the program gave her the call sign ‘Alpha’, the first pilot.
     Like everything else on the small carrier space was at a premium so the briefing room had to make do with a large flat panel display instead of a hologram projector. Jki’s image and voice were transmitted to the briefing rooms of the other three carriers. With a remote/laser point in hand she started the briefing. “Thanks to a Hazen survey destroyer, and an apparently lack of corvettes on the enemy’s part to chase it away or destroy it, we now have a detailed look of what’s headed our way.” The flat panel faired to life, displaying images of the alien ships. “Nine battlecruisers, twelve heavy cruisers, and eighteen destroyers.” Jki allowed the numbers to sink in for a moment while the graphics cycled through the various ship types, showing scan results and capabilities of known units. “As you see, three of the battlecruisers are slightly undersized and all twelve heavy cruisers are one-sixth less massive than ours. Our first strike will launch when the range reaches 10 light-seconds. Two squadrons each will target a battlecruiser, crippling as many as possible. Subsequent strikes will be launched against the heavy cruisers and destroyers as directed. For specific target assignments I will now turn over the briefing to Senior Lieutenant Reas.”
     Like the rest of the pilots Reas started out as a shuttle jockey. He was the commander of the shuttle contingent about the troopship Red Beach and participated in the successful assault of the UWL home system warp point. When the strikefighter program needed pilots Reas as well as many of the assault shuttle pilots signed up. Reas himself was one of the primary test pilots and helped Jki in establishing the pilot candidate selection process. His call sign was ‘Old Man’, not due to his age but to the way he commanded his pilots. Only now did the pilots come to appreciate the nit-picky drive for perfection that Reas practiced. “Okay, classmates,” the senior pilot said in trademark laid-back manner, “here’s when we make good on all the tax money spent on us. We’ll launch and head for the enemy, attacking from their blind spots at point-blank range if possible. We will time our attack run to coincide with the task group reaching the 4.5 LS mark, optimum range for externally mounted capital missiles. Any attempt by them to engage us will mean less heat for our ships, and if they use point defense then they’ll be more vulnerable to missiles.
     "The Cout’s squadrons will engage BC-1.” Reas indicated to the highlighted icon on the flat screen. “Sason on BC-2, Nolas on BC-3 and Ahlas on BC-4. We’ve trained for this, people. What we’ll experience here today will help all future pilots, so strive to succeed and survive. I want no hot-dogging. Understood?” After a chorus of ‘yessir’ Reas continued. “Good. We’ve got less than thirty minutes before launch. Saddle up and good hunting.”

Dornal felt uncomfortable in his pressure suit and he was sure everyone else felt the same. He checked the connections on his helmet with his back pair of hands while his front pair adjusted the CIC’s holoimager at his console. The alien fleet was 11.25 LS away, and at the rate of closure the two fleets would be at extreme capital missile range in 90 seconds. Aside from the scout that was keeping its distance at 10 LS range the aliens had 39 ships. Of that number three were frigates, eighteen destroyers, twelve cruisers (divided evenly between being smaller or larger than the Interior class), three battlecruisers and three ships that were over 60% larger than an Imperium.
     Having no intention to lob missiles at long range against big (and subsequently well-defended) targets Dornal highlighted a trio of destroyers that had the same drive-field strength as his Type 2s. They would be fired upon until the range dropped to 4.5 LS; from there the big ships would be targeted for destruction. With the needle beams aboard the Type 2s, once the range dropped to 2.5 LS and the aliens’ shields destroyed, the battle will be in the Hokum’s favor as the aliens lost weapons and engines.
      At the 10 LS mark the CIC Sensor Tech made an announcement. “Anomalous signatures. 48 small craft-like objects have launched from four ships. Six destroyers, including the apparent motherships, have turned away from the main alien formation.”
     Dornal grunted. He waited until range dropped to 7.5 LS. If these new targets were assault shuttles then the aliens apparently believed in conducting boarding actions during combat. The INS had conducted exercises over the centuries concerning the capture of ships after a battle. To do so during one was considered inefficient as larger units would keep fighting until the boarding parties literally took over the entire ship, a process that would last longer than the battle itself. Also in such exercises commanders of smaller units often simulated self-destruct or had other friendly units fire upon them when it looked the boarders would succeed.
     “Initiate the fire plan,” Dornal ordered. “Sensors, are those small contacts shuttles?”
     “No, Admiral. They’re smaller than shuttles and are moving at the same speed as assault shuttles.” The tech leaned ever so slightly towards his main panels. “Incoming fire. Target is D-11. The battlecruisers had fired a salvo of 18 capital missiles. Three are on target.” His feline-like face turned a little sour under his pressure helmet. “Point defense has failed to intercept. D-11 is deploying an EDM.” A moment passed. “Two hits on D-11. She lost her shields.”
     “Registering hits on first designated alien DD,” the Tactical Officer on Codec’s bridge announced. “Despite the range and an EDM the target took four hits. Shields are down.”
     “The large alien ships have also fired capital missiles,” Sensors added. “Only six, and of those just one locked on. D-11 has shot it down.”
     “Increase speed to 0.067c,” Dornal ordered. “The next weapon cycle will focus on the second designated alien DD.”
     Soon the range dropped to 6 LS, increasing the accuracy of the capital missile by 50%. D-11 got ten inbounds. Deploying its remaining EDM, the destroyer managed to destroy or evade those missiles with the point defense help of its fellows. Even the five missiles from the trio of big ships were knocked down. The second alien DD was not so fortunate, losing its shields and some armor just like its squadronmate.
     “Sensors, anything more about those shuttles?” Dornal asked with edged concern.
     “Very little, Admiral. They’re clearly almost the same size as cutters but moving 33% faster.”
     “It could be some new small craft drive technology that allows them to move so fast, Admiral,” the Tactical Officer said over Dornal’s helmet speakers.
     Dornal looked at the holoimager for a moment, considering his options. “With its carrying capacity a cutter is not the optimal boarding platform. Tactical, have DD Squadron 4 fire on those ‘cutters’ when they enter range.”
     “As you order, Lord Admiral.”
     Those 48 small craft arrived as planned at point-blank range as both alien and Hokum reached the 4.5 LS mark A volley of eight capital force beams and eighteen internal and externally launched capital missiles were marked for one of the alien’s missile battlecruisers. Three missiles got past datalink point defense and EDMs, and with four force beam hits the BC lost 63% of its shields.
     The Sensor Tech’s voice was loaded with surprise. “Twelve of the cutters have painted our hull with targeting scanners… Radiological alarm! They’re armed with nukes!”
     Dornal heard that as well as the Tactical Officer ordering the launch of all EDMs. Codec’s hull shook as the fleet little missiles dealt damage that broke shields, armor and interior systems. Fire from the alien fleet added to the Codec’s misery. Two engine rooms were wrecked and only two capital force beams remained operational. He cursed under his breath like a drunken cadet on Fleet Night, watching the small craft running away towards their motherships in all likelihood to rearm. Orders came fast and quick. The battlecruisers kept to .067c while the heavy cruisers and destroyers went to full speed of .1c. Unless the enemy came to a complete stop the needle beams will be within effective range in thirty seconds.

“Hot damn, what a sight!” Reas exclaimed as he gazed at the Cout strikegroup’s handiwork. The tiny screen in the backseat cockpit of the command fighter displayed the atmosphere-spewing hull of the alien BC. Just like in training it was proved that EDMs were completely worthless against the close attack missiles used by the fighters. Follow-up volleys by the ships of the task force caused further damage to the four fighter-targeted ships. “Let’s head back to the bays to rearm and dealt out more hurt,” he said over the command frequency.
     Reas and the other pilots’ joy was checked by reality. One fighter, flown by a pilot under the call-sign Chowhound, was shot down by the fire of three destroyers. Swift revenge taken by the task force’s light cruisers, resulting in the complete destruction of the destroyer known to the Hokum as D-11. As the fighters sped back home the fleets closed the gap to 2.5 LS. All the RSF Disams (including the damaged one) and Losyns broke formation and took a separate course, keeping to a range that benefited their missile armament. The Hokum’s smaller ships had to sacrifice the benefits of ECM in order to get there, but their ECCM was still able to cut the electronic defenses of the RSF ships in half.
     Damaged as they were, the Hokum BCs were still in datalink. They and the heavy cruisers targeted the RSF destroyers and light cruisers. Shields were down on three Kilpros, three Okados and a Barlatio. This was what the seventeen Type 2s were waiting for. Additional force beam hits were followed by precision lancing of needle beams. Some ships lost a beam weapon. Others had their magazines wrecked, rendering their missile launchers starved for ammo. A few lost their harden datalink installations, leaving them to fend for themselves against enemy missiles.
     Admiral Ayrth, commanding from the dreadnought Captain Avma, recognized that left alone those destroyers and their precision beams would pull out the teeth of all his ships. So he returned the favor, allowing the ISN ships to close even more. The range was now 0.75 LS, and the Avma and her two consorts were quicker with their weapon cycling rates. The force beam fire from Capital, a Tuphonese crewed dreadnought, was dreadful as only one force beam and three gun rounds hit. But two Type 2s were utterly wrecked while a trailing BC was lanced by five primary beams.
     The ISN CAs, too close in to use their capital missiles effectively at the DDs, fired their missiles at the damaged Disam, further wrecking engine rooms and launchers. After this round of exchange the score stood at one RSF BC badly damaged, two CLs without passive defenses, and twelve DDs with shields gone and either having armor damage or worse. On the ISN side only four BCs were still combat capable along with the twelve undersized CAs undamaged. Only eight DDs remained untouched while a ninth boasted just half of her engines and one capital force beam. As for the remaining nine they were either destroyed or severely damaged.
     As the strikefighters landed on their carriers the fleets kept moving. A step up in speed and a maneuver caused the Type 2s to come out front of the RSF ships. The Imperium BCs had, however, closed to within half a light second of the fleet. Tempted as he was to polish off those ships Ayrth ordered that the Type 2s had targeting priority. A defiant duo of Type 2s fired first, hitting the CA Bold with both force and needle beams. She lost her capital beams in the process. Her loss was more than made up by the crippling of four enemy destroyers. All the Type 2s were destroyed or rendered weaponless, but the ISN had removed the RSF destroyers as a threat (their HET lasers having been destroyed by needle beams) and have taken two Barlatios out of the picture.
     It became a circle of death. At these speeds nothing could be added to ECM, leaving what little could be generated to be handled by all the ECCM involved. Deft moves kept the eleven Interiors, two Foreguards and the single combat worthy Imperium at bay but both sides were within deadly range for their force beams. Once again the dreadnoughts were quicker on the trigger.

Dornal’s jaw dropped in awe as the three monsters ships visited terrible destruction on his command. Both remaining Foreguards were gutted even before they could fire and an Interior lost two engine rooms and her multiplex tracking from some kind of highly focused force beam. Right there and then Dornal knew he should’ve brought along the remnants of the First Segment. Missile-firing small craft or no he was sure that victory would’ve been his for the taking. The Tactical Officer was projecting a complete loss of the Second Segment in a minimum of two minutes of further close-in combat. Running now would be pointless, not with those deathwagons with untouched shields and armor. The Lord Admiral sent a final message to the First Segment, ordering them to return to Forum if they should detect substantial alien forces. Next he ordered the Tactical Officer to have the remaining Interiors cripple or destroy as many alien ships as possible.
     In 150 seconds the fighters would be fully rearmed and launched. Before that the Terpla DNs, Kiosho CAs and those DDs and FGs still with gun/missile launchers continued with the slaughter. Two Kioshos were rendered useless and a third damaged, but only four Interiors remained. Still moving at full speed, that doomed quartet finally reached a range of 20,000km from their targets. Here their effort went unfulfilled. Only a single force beam hit was attained before the quartet joined their fellows as mobile wrecks. Of the 39 ships of the Second Segment only two were actually destroyed; the rest were able to make only half speed or less. Two of ships were so bad off that they only had half of an engine room working yet they kept moving, making a pitiful dash to the warp point.
     As for the RSF it was in no way a cakewalk. From their 39 ships three were destroyed and only the three Terplas, two Disams, two Kioshos, one Zumpla, three Losyns, three Rundenros, two Provems and four Couts stayed undamaged. All the rest were damaged to various degrees but were still mobile and retained life support.
     The holoimager on Avma’s bridge was speckled with light codes of friend and foe alike. Ayrth focused on the alien BCs as they made their slow getaway. “Gods, what a mess,” said Gorus, the Admiral’s Staff Intelligence Officer. “We have only four assault shuttles to conduct proper boarding actions. Our cutters will have enough to do recovering our own few lifepods.”
     Ayrth blinked in agreement. “Thankfully the situation wasn’t reversed. Have the assault shuttles go after these four BCs.” He highlighted the holoimager icons in question. “Those ships fired two force beams each. I believe one or more of them might be command ships. As for the rest have the destroyers and frigates go after them and fire a round across their bows. Either they’ll surrender or scuttle their ships.”
     “We’ll need more in the way of SAR assets to pick up alien survivors,” Gorus added.
     “Indeed. Inform Task Groups 112 and 113 to power up and rendezvous with us to render SAR assistance.”
     “Yes, Admiral. What of the alien force still stationed at the warp point?”
     Ayrth thought for a moment. “Ten destroyers and two small cruisers wouldn’t pose a serious threat even against our depleted force. However, until we know the alien’s disposition it wouldn’t be wise to let them augment whatever reinforcements they’re sending. Have Jki take the carriers to the warp point and destroy as many ships as possible with her fighters.”
     As the various orders were dispensed the captains of the Second Segment decided the fate of their ships. Thirteen refused to yield and had to be destroyed, spreading the Terpla’n destroyers and frigates far and wide from the battle area. From the twenty-four remaining only eight surrendered but six of those failed to erase their databases. A total of 7,114 alien survivors were picked up and distributed between the four personnel transports of the support group.

Four hours later the ISN commander of the depleted First Segment watched with a mix of disbelief and concern as the six destroyer-sized vessels approached the warp point. He found Dornal’s message about missile-armed small craft disconcerting yet believed he could hold out against them. The twelve ships sat atop the warp point, letting the 47 small craft come towards them. With their speed the Terpla’n fighters were only in the defensive fire envelope for one minute. None were shot down at extreme range from the needle beams in anti-fighter mode. At point blank range seven were killed but four Type 2s were wiped out. Now with proof he couldn’t deny the commander took the First Segment back into the Forum system. For their part the Terpla’ns picked up 381 ISN survivors and, with surprise and relief, two pilots that survived ejecting from their fighters.
Task Groups 112 and 113 moved into position three days later and assumed a defensive posture around the warp point. A new belt of mines and buoys was sown. The captured ships and their crews were moved into orbit above Coral Bridge’s second planet. With two mobile shipyards in attendance the study of the aliens’ ships and technology began in earnest. It was also down to a matter of waiting for the xenologists to establish communications with the captive aliens. Six explorer-sized scouts remained, unable to leave but immune to attack. Even a partially-loaded prototype strikefighter couldn’t close on them, so Jki decided to keep the aliens ignorant about that fact. With almost three years of supplies on-board the scouts could afford to wait.
Aboard the Cout and the other carriers the pilots were celebrating their success as well as saluting those that have passed on. In memory of Chowhound and the other five pilots lost that day an extra serving of the main course was eaten by their squadronmates in the ship’s galley. From then on it became a tradition on all Republic carriers. Jki knew that losses were expected but felt, like every commander, that more could’ve been done to reduce them. Ayrth agreed, since more fighters would’ve meant less shipboard losses. Over the next few weeks this sentiment percolated throughout the RSF and in Republic media outlets. Despite the passage of fourteen months and efforts to paint himself as a strikefighter proponent people remembered that Senator Buntu had voted against the strikefighter project in the first place. He lost his re-election bid to an opponent less than half his age.

It was now three months after a cease-fire was called by the Hokum and seven months to the day after the Battle for Coral Bridge. Ness Vorza, member of the Republic Diplomatic Corps and appointed ambassador to the Hokum Imperium, was sitting in the ornate office of Emperor Boban. Museum-worthy artwork adorned the walls and the Emperor’s desk easily cost a small fortune. As Hokum went, Boban was considered to be average-looking. His short-sleeve vest was, however, one of the most intricately decorative garments made by his race, befitting his station as ruler of the Imperium.
     There was some debate on the choice of ambassador. Some felt that a race more similar to the Hokum appearance would be more palatable. Both the Valhallan and E’sani were bipeds but had only one pair of arms. Both were mostly hairless while the Hokum had short, fine fur covering most of their bodies. The Hazen had four arms but were centaur in form and, due to their atmospheric needs, had to wear pressure suits in standard planetary environments. After further study of captured Hokum records and prisoner interviews it was found that they hadn’t encountered an alien race until now. So it was decided to go ahead with a Terpla’n ambassador. If the Hokum could accept the way Terpla’ns look then they could handle how the rest of the galaxy’s races looked like.
     It took effort on Boban’s part not to think of the Terpla’n before him as enlarged talking seafood or an animatronic puppet. The large eyes were especially unnatural with nictating membranes in addition to their regular eyelids. He also had a hard time comprehending how such a being could walk with its arrangement of legs. In his reasoning Boban knew it was culture shock that he was still experiencing. After all this time as a space-fairing nation the Hokum’s encounter with another sentient race should’ve been handled better. Clearly more time was needed to digest all the knowledge acquired during the talks. The Terpla’n was looking at him with expectation that couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. Boban steeled himself like he was addressing a council meeting during budget allocation and activated the translation program. “Ambassador, I will be speaking in the capacity as head of the Imperial Council.” He waited a moment as the computer turned his words into Terpla’n speech. “But first I will be speaking as Emperor. I give my thanks in the return of ISN personnel and for the good treatment they received.”
     “Thank you, Sire,” Ness said. The translation program made her resultant speech sound mechanical and leaden. She knew the program still needed tweaking in the main Hokum language, especially since it included growls and yips of various pitches. In return the Emperor’s speech was low pitched, much like an elder passing judgment. “I trust you’re convinced of our sincerity and inherent good nature.”
     Boban’s ears twitched. “While your people convinced our returned personnel about your sincerity, and doubtlessly such good feeling will go a long way in establishing a better understanding between our two nations, there are still some issues. Even with the return of personnel and ships, and the granting of the Coral Bridge system to the Imperium, giving my nation a bulwark against possible aggression, I’m still concerned about your nation’s intentions. You know where our home system is, and in a future conflict your RSF will have a very short trail to follow. Additionally, with your ‘strikefighter’ technology, you’ve shown a technical edge that we ourselves haven’t even begun to match. What if militant elements of your government take sway and declare war anew, using your fighters while only you still have them?”
     Ness blinked her eyes twice, signifying comprehension. “Is that the reason the trade treaty was rejected?”
     “Yes. Trade now will only serve to gauge our strength against yours. Until we feel that we can adequately defend ourselves against possible aggression there can be no sustained relations.” Boban fetched a parchment from an upper desk drawer. He handed it to Ness, showing that it was written in Terpla’n. “The Imperial Council has, after a protracted and heated debate, decided to a treaty of non-aggression between the Imperium and the Republic. This is a translated text copy so that you may review it. It is a formalization of the agreement now in place regarding entry into the Coral Bridge system by ships and courier drones of the Republic. You have one week to review this treaty. If adjustments need to be made you can meet with your counterpart, the Minister of the Interior. Once all differences have been ironed out the treaty will be signed.”
     “I will review this treaty with due process, Emperor. I may have expected too much too soon in offering trade.”
     “Compared to your nation’s experience in dealing with others my Imperium is still coming out of the woods,” Boban observed. “Please make an allowance in our favor. Hundreds of years of isolation and habit cannot be dispelled in months. In time we might appreciate having a better relation with your Republic, but not now.”
     “Understandable, Emperor Boban. I and my staff will review this treaty with due care.” Ness stood up from the antique chair that best suited her Terpla’n physiology and did her best attempt at a bow and left. What remained with Boban was his thoughts about the council. Six of the eight ministers were dead set against having further relations with the Republic. Reasons ranged from xenophobia, paranoia, fear of losing wealth and influence, and the desire to keep the Imperium from becoming a client state of the Republic. The size of the RSF task groups, not to mention those ‘deathwagons’ as Dornal described them and the strikefighter, clearly showed the Republic to be a far larger and wealthier entity. More open and rational minds were needed if the Imperium was going to have a healthy adjustment to the new reality facing it.

Eighteen months after the Short War (known to the Hokum as the First Contact Conflict) Senator Eyna Huj was justifiable proud of his achievement. The Compact of Commonwealth had passed with 95% of the vote. As for Terpla’s partners only the Tuphon had signed on. Just now recovering from their recession the Tuphonese public was still mad about the stock manipulation that caused the economic collapse. They were now willing to tolerate more diligent regulatory enforcement to prevent another such collapse.
     President Phelan had not to run for re-election, deciding instead to retire to the world of university teaching. Eyna’s presidential campaign, an undertaking held at the same time his Compact of Commonwealth legislation was being debated in the Senate and by the public, had shoestring funding as such endeavors went. His charisma and persuasive speech, along with straight honest talk about his goals, won over the people that no multi-million dollar ad campaign could accomplish.
     One week after the election Eyna was again entertaining Sal in his office. But this time it was located on the top floor of the north wing of the senate building. It stretched from outer to interior walls, giving views of the city outside and the courtyard. The office also came complete with carpeting that agreed with Sal’s calloused footpads. The short senator walked in plush comfort as he went for a bowl of sardines by the wet bar. "Now this is living," Sal commented. "Not only do you get the best office in the building you also got the title that goes with the office. Eyna Huj, President. That’s not mentioning all the perks that go with it."
     "Including the Presidential Mansion and limousine, no less," Eyna added after joining Sal and partook of a particularly yummy sardine. "Best of all I have nowhere near the campaign debt of my rivals. That's another positive I can espouse to the public."
     "And more, friend. In another week you can claim another positive when the treaty is signed between our Repub.... err, make that Commonwealth of Planetary States and the Democracy of Hamthen. I also understand that first contact communications between us and the Quagaar have improved remarkably."
     "A thankful set of events, Sal, and I need more of them in these first few years. The number of senators doubled thanks to the inclusion of the Tuphon and second-wave colony planets. My work is cut out for me, getting everyone to agree to legislation that benefits all instead of a few. Buntu may be gone but his replacement will do his best to see Kiosho is served well in the new political landscape."
     Sal gulped down five sardines at once, proving his appetite belied his size. "Aye, there's that then, Eyna. Don't forget Tamaya and Zumpla. They're in the same system as Kiosho, and together they have enough economic weight that can't be ignored. Not to mention the demands they'll make to have their share of new naval construction."
     Eyna sighed. "As well as the Gymen system and my own Yoshibo concerns. Yes, the competition for construction contracts will get heated soon enough. The cost of the fortifications to guard our side of the Coral Bridge warp point would make any shipyard owner drown in his own saliva. Such protection is needed since the Hokum rejected our last two trade treaty offers in the past two years. They may be still coming to grips in how to deal with us or are arming themselves for defense, or for attack."
     "Hopefully it won't come back to war again. After all, the Imperium is run by elected officials. Even the Emperor is elected by their populace. Who knows, perhaps in their next election cycle they'll decide to open up and become friends."
     "That I would appreciate in the fullest, Sal. We've the good fortune of not entering a multi-year war since being in space. I cannot help but think that we'll find a race that has nothing but ill-will towards us. It's a sense of natural balance. With all the races we've encountered so far they've become our friends outright or have done so after a brief conflict. Eventually there will be an evil to balance out the good. When that happens, we'll need all our friends to help defeat it."
     "You can add philosopher to your resume, Eyna. I wish I had the foresight to say whether you’re right or wrong."

02/19/07

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