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The Xhali - Chapter 2 It was now the 45th anniversary of
the Xhali exodus from the It was late at night as a guest made his appearance at the Ducal mansion. “An interesting situation,” Duke Cussel said as Wattal, Secretary without Portfolio, rested upon a seat in the Duke’s private study. “I daresay this might be the most important point in the Duchy’s history.” “I
agree, my Duke,” said Wattal. “The contact team has
concluded, based on data provided by the Jazta themselves, that the Cussel
flexed his antennae in agreement. “As they should and
as we’ve been doing. The Watermill system has a rich
habitable world, two asteroid belts and at least four
warp points. Had the Contact with the Jazta Union occurred three months previous. The Fifth Survey Flotilla had been in the Watermill system for a week when a Union survey force was picked up on sensors. Both groups converged on the habitable planet and first contact protocols were initiated within visual range of the blue and brown world. In two weeks both sides were able to communicate. The Xhali were concerned that the Jazta thought it necessary to attach capital units to a survey mission. It came across as a sign of overt militarism and aggressiveness and the following talks regarding the ownership of Watermill reinforced that impression. Cussel
gave the hardcopy report he was reading earlier a
final glare before closing it. “I won’t let implied
threats frighten us in giving up such a valuable
system. We need to convince the “Yes,”
Wattal said immediately. “Instances in our own ancient
history and of those of the subjugated races back in
the “An
implied threat of force backed up by reality,” Cussel
reasoned. He opened a plain hardcopy folder and gave
the three enclosed sheets to Wattal. “I have no
intention of implying anything in my response to the
Like other modern Jazta buildings the Military Governance Bureau Complex (MGBC) was a curious combination of curves and angles. This was done for artistic reasons as the interplay of light and shadow made the buildings appear different during the day. Likewise the interior of the complex placed style above function, requiring far more space than necessary for the various offices. This was a deliberate choice for the building interiors of the previous government departments had all the charm of a bulk warehouse. The
central meeting room at the MGBC was kept to resemble
a fashion style from over two hundred years previous.
What modern technology that was employed was hidden or
adapted to appear as ancient furnishings. A large wood
and marble octagonal table sat in the center. Seven of
the arranged chairs were already occupied by the
senior heads of the MGB. Those seven occupants stood
up as Bureau Chief Amty,
Leader of the While a well-mannered and considerate person Amty was trained in the political jungle that is the Military Governance Bureau. He cultivated allies and marked enemies as his seniority rose and responsibilities grew. As Chief, Amty could take or return the commission of any officer or non-com as he saw fit. In his first year Amty used that power to remove one troublesome bureau commander and restored several officers to duty that had been wrongly decommissioned. So it paid either to do your job well or to escape the notice of the Chief. Five minute of reading and smoking passed before Amty spoke. “So this alien duke wants a ‘contest of strength’ to determine ownership of the Wildcat system.” He eyed the commander of the Bureau of Naval Affairs, Castal. “Lugging around those dreadnoughts for squadron security certainly impressed the aliens so well that they want to test their mettle against ours.” “I still stand by my assertion,” responded Castal, his pale red eyes brightening. “It’s only a matter of time before we encountered a spacefairing race during our surveys. Those dreadnoughts were for defense if hostilities broke out. Additionally the intimidation value of dreadnought would convince less technically sophisticated races to behave.” Amty wasn’t impressed. Castal was perhaps the most
militant of the bureau commanders. However it is
probably more accurate to call him aggressive since
the “As for the survey commander he’ll be chastised for breaking orders,” countered Castal. “This challenge battle will allow us to see what the aliens, these ‘Xhali’, have in the way of military force. Now that they have seen our dreadnoughts they’ll be compelled be bring their best forces to engage them.” Castal got some supportive glances from the other six bureau heads. This would be the first time Jazta weapons would be fired at something other than empty space and practice asteroids. “The 2nd Fleet is based at Grand Fork, just four transits from Wildcat. We can easily satisfy the conditions of the challenge match and still possess an effective force to counter any possible treachery.” Taking a long drag from his cigar Amty blew the resulting inhaled smoke towards the center of the table. “In for a penny, in for a dollar. Castal, compose a force of ships that will maximize our firepower within the specified tonnage limit. As this may be a once in a lifetime occurrence, inform Admiral Walkin of 2nd Fleet that he’ll be in command. This is too important to be left in the hands of a junior vice-admiral.” “As you command, Chief.” Castal grimaced internally. Walkin was one of Amty’s allies and it was his vote that made Amty the new Bureau Chief. Giving the honor of leading the fleet in this staged fight to an officer on the verge of retiring seemed wasteful. A victory would’ve been of immense value to a younger vice-admiral and would go a long way in the political jungle leading to the position of Bureau Chief. “Now
that we’ve taken care of the generalities,” Amty continued, “it’s time for
specifics. It has been over three months that since we
made contact with the Xhali. We need to create an
official Bureau of Foreign Affairs to formulate policy
and procedure in dealing with foreign governments. The
question is who’s going to head this new bureau.
Suggestions?”
Prince Hercul, eldest son of Duke Cussel, viewed the main flatpanel display on Reprisal’s bridge with interest. The Xhali Challenge Force had come within 10 light-seconds of the Jazta fleet. Sensors determined that the fleet was composed of ten dreadnoughts, ten battleships, three light cruisers and three frigates. A formidable force if one uses the Duchy’s own Keep class DN and Turret class BCs as measure sticks. From the Jazta perspective the appearance of eighteen battlecruisers, twelve heavy cruisers and six light cruisers constituted a serious challenge. In reality twelve of the battlecruisers were actually fleet carriers and all the heavy cruisers were light carriers. This amounted to 75% of all carriers in service. Cussel made a bold decision to commit so many carriers. Others argued that a more balanced force for the challenge was advisable. He turned down the advice, banking that a decisive use of the new weapon would suitably impress the Jazta. Hercul hoped it would work, provided that the Jazta didn’t have fighters or some other equally potent surprise. With his rank and position Hercul was just an observer. In command of the Challenge Force was Admiral Tremor, a Dalthan. Tremor wasn’t the admiral’s real name, but a working name assigned to him since Dalthan names were composed of chirps and whistles. All Duchy ships had integrated Xhali and Dalthan crews, though with the population difference all crews were at least 70% Dalthan. Tremor was seated at an auxiliary work station next to the captain’s command riser since the carrier had no CIC. He motioned to Hercul to join him. “At this rate of closure we’ll launch our fighters in ninety seconds, my prince. The cruisers will continue to close to engage the capital ships. I’m certain that we’ll lose a ship or two, but we need to know what in the way of shipboard weaponry they mount. However, they just may ignore the ships and fire point defense and sprint-mode missiles when the fighters engage.” “I wouldn’t worry about that, admiral,” Hercul replied. “When they see how many fighters we’ve got they’ll try to make the exchange a tiny bit less one-sided.” “They may try, my prince. Please strap yourself in. We’ll be commencing the missile engagement in under a minute.”
Admiral Walkin, Commander of the 2nd Union Fleet and a senior officer of the Universal Space Navy, checked the seal of his helmet one more time. The closure rate between his fleet and the Xhali would place them in optimum firing range in one minute. With one hundred plasma torpedo launchers to its credit Task Force 21 could crush any opponent within its reach. The crews were confident and eager; the clock couldn’t move fast enough to satisfy them. Walkin felt honored that Amty specifically chose him to lead the fleet into battle, but he also knew that this was compensation for supporting Amty’s bid for Bureau Chief. Years earlier Amty was part of his executive staff. During that time Amty showed his excellence as well as saving Walkin’s figurative bacon on more than one occasion. When it came time for the election Walkin was able to exercise his political pull with the other admirals and generals. Looking forward to retirement in two years, Walkin considered this staged battle as the perfect capstone to his career. A victory will ensure not only his position in USN but Jazta history. A statue to his honor wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities. Before his thoughts went further down that path an alarm filled the Beige Fishhawk’s CIC. “Incoming fire at six LS,” barked the sensor tech’s voice over the intercom. “Missiles inbound for Olive and Grey.” Walkin looked at a repeater display at his secured station. Six missiles had locked onto Beige’s sister ship. Such a small volley allowed the point defense to concentrate multiple intercept solutions. Even so a single missile got through to damage Olive’s shields. A five missile volley from another datagroup of Xhali ships targeted the Grey Fishhawk. This time three missiles eluded both interceptor rounds and lasers clusters alike, taking down 33% of Grey’s shielding. There was no chance to retaliate since plasma torpedoes had no hope to hit mobile targets at such range. At the range of five LS another volley of missiles was fired at Olive and Grey. Both ships were hit by a pair of missiles. Though now he could open fire with a 40% fire control solution for his torpedoes Walkin declined. He wanted an optimum solution to maximize the number of hits. Like everyone else looking at the position plot Walkin was surprised by the appearance of over 400 small sensor contacts amid the Xhali fleet. He heard himself ordering his operations and intelligence officers to identify the new contacts while he thought of a possibility. Years ago the aggressor force in a fleet exercise used a massive wave of assault shuttles to conduct boarding actions during ship-to-ship combat. The plan depended on knocking down the shields of the intended targets. In the event the exercise was a partial success due to the number of shuttles shot down by simulated weapons fire and the failure of the attacking fleet to knock out the shielding of all the ships. Twelve battlecruisers and a similar number of heavy cruisers, in all likelihood the launch platforms for the small craft horde, broke away from the Xhali formation at full speed and performed a 180° turn. The remainder turned 60° to starboard and remained at the sedate speed of 0.033c. Walkin ordered his fleet to turn 60° to port and increase speed to 0.067c. At a range of 4.25 LS the first plasma torpedo broadsides were fired. All six Xhali BCs were targeted by the dreadnoughts and battleships. The single DN-BB pairing fired at a light cruiser. Concerned
that the Jazta didn’t use
ECCM to suppress the electronic defenses of their
ships the Xhali crews became downright worried that
the torpedoes proved extremely difficult targets. That
worry became mortal dread as EDMs failed to trick the
weapons away from the ships. First hit was the Pom-Pom, the
first BC built by the Duchy. Ten torpedoes slammed
into her shields and then into her hull, turning the
proud ship into a gross parody. She could only go 1/3
of her normal speed and just one hetlaser
and a missile launcher remained. The second The light cruisers knew their number was up so they made the most of it. They selected a Jazta frigate and let loose with external capital missiles and advanced missile launchers. Nuclear fireballs crawled over the drive field of the small ship, wrecking most of it engines but leaving its two short-ranged plasma guns intact. One CL was targeted by the DN/BB pair. Six of the seven on-target torpedoes made it past the now-panicked point defense barrier and turned Far Sling into a crawling hulk. Walkin didn’t need to imagine the pride felt by his crews. He needed to image what to make of the 432 small craft-like objects heading for his fleet. The five unbroken Xhali CLs and the Ranging Shot went to full speed and turned far better than a typical Jazta cruiser. As for the cripples they tried to keep up as best they could. The other 24 Xhali cruisers were beyond torpedo range but the CLs were just under 5 LS range, giving the torpedoes a 40% fire control solution. Walkin had his ships fire at the distant targets as a matter of course. Two more CLs became limping hulks with another pair lost their passive defenses. As for the fifth it was slowed to two-thirds speed, trailing debris and atmosphere behind it. “Intel,” the admiral said calmly as he highlighted the approaching swarm on his plot, “are those things suicide craft?” “I don’t know, sir,” said the frustrated commander. “They’re roughly smaller than a cutter but faster. Right now they’re 1.5 LS out and employing erratic maneuvering. In fleet exercises point defense had been use to engage small craft conducting ramming attacks.” Walkin remembered those exercise for he was one of the originators. The decision came immediately. “Have all point defense engage these craft as they bear,” Walkin said, his orders being relayed to the appropriate departments. “Increase speed to max. Try to keep the range open and out of our blind spot.” Counter-missiles from the numerous capital point defense installations sped out to the horde, smiting eight of them from existence. Trained as they were, the Jazta couldn’t keep away from the horde. They simply returned to full speed and slipped behind the big ships before they could conduct another change in course. Evasive maneuvering was employed as a last resort but this horde wasn’t ramming. These small craft were actually prototype strikefighters armed with close attack missiles. With none of the point-ditch fire as they were trained to expect during fleet problems Xhali and Dalthu pilots lined up on their targets and fired. Unsure and ignorant what these little craft were about to do the Jazta crews opened fired on those units that they could hit – the least damaged CLs and the BCs. None of the small ships were destroyed but two more BCs became expanding clouds of debris just like the Twin Turret. The bridge sensor tech yelled something over the intercom about incoming missiles before the Beige shook like it was in the hands of a giant. Lights went out in the CIC and part of the ceiling ripped open like wet cardboard. The visor on Walkin’s helmet immediately came down in response to decreasing air pressure. Short-range sensors were still on-line. On a repeater plot Walkin watched as the small craft sped away. Then on his main repeater the Admiral saw the damage estimates. Every Fishhawk suffered at least 46% internal damage. The Stonehawks lost 67% of their internals and the Robins were half-dead. One frigate was destroyed; the remaining one was figuratively hanging on by its fingernails for it just had one intact system to its name. Walkin was too professional to let pride run roughshod over reality. There was no way his cripples could continue fighting. If something wasn’t done in the next few minutes those small craft would obviously get rearmed aboard their motherships and return. Using all four gloved hands the admiral entered a passcode on his control console. A direct com-link was established with the Xhali fleet flagship in two minutes. “This is Admiral Walkin of the Jazta Universal Space Navy,” he said into his helmet mic. “In accordance to the conditions agreed upon for this challenge fight I concede defeat. I invoke the four-day clause to conduct search and rescue operations and perform emergency repairs. Please reply.”
“Success,” said Admiral Tremor in the Reprisal’s wardroom. He raised the liquor glass and took a sip from a long, narrow straw. “The efficacy of the strikefighter has been proven.” The other senior officers present raised their glasses in acknowledgment and drank. It may have been a decidedly one-sided engagement but the gained experience was far better than any simulation. Strikefighters were developed to further enhance the combat power of the DSN. All the time, treasure, and effort expended into the project had now been justified. “I must add, however, this proof came at the cost of three of our ships and 900 dead. For that I salute the fallen for their contribution.” The following acknowledgment was a bit less cheerful. “Truth,” said Hercul from the other side of the room. He had been brooding over the losses while saluting his father’s insight and shrewdness. Depending on the militancy and rationality of the Jazta they might make for good allies. “Had we come in with a conventional battleline then victory would’ve been in doubt. Those plasma-armed missiles were incredibly difficult to engage. Add the fact they weren’t affected by ECM and EDMs didn’t help at all we would be honoring far more dead right now for our victory, if we won. What remains now is whether this display of superior firepower produced the desired amount of respect or instilled a sense of revenge.”
The smoke in the room came from just one cigar but to everyone except Amty it seemed like fog. News of the defeat caused the senior chiefs to feel depressed and agitated. Amty watched, his glass-augmented gaze going from one officer to the next as they argued about the implications. Raised voices filled the air, stirring the thin level of smoke only to have it replenished by frequent puffs from the Bureau Chief’s cigar. Amty finished his smoke and extinguished it in a clay-fired bowel made by his granddaughter. “I want to understand this,” he said normally, instantly quieting the rest. “The Xhali have a new kind of small craft that carries short-range attack missiles that do as much damage as a capital ship missile. They could’ve won and suffered no ship losses at all. Instead they sent in a dozen regular warships along with the small craft just so they could find out what we had in the way of weapons.” He glanced at a datapad he’d been holding in his back right hand. “Because of that, we now know they have a new form of datalink. Badly damaged ships were still able to assist their squadron mates in shooting down plasma torpedoes.” Berges, commander of the Bureau of Economy and Industry, spoke up. “From a monetary perspective the Xhali must have an economy comparable to ours. Those small craft motherships, when you factor in their small craft squadrons, easily match the price of one of our battleships if not more. Additionally, these Xhali must appreciate the number of capital ships we had in the battle and draw their own deductions about our economy in turn.” Amty grounded his cigar butt in the bowl. “I agree. Twenty capital ships would give them something to mull over.” He looked over at Castal. The other man’s eyes were looking at the table surface in front of him than at Amty. “It seemed our force composition was appropriate. If we had more and smaller ships then our casualties would’ve been much higher.” With everyone looking on Amty brought out two sheets of hardcopy from a folder provided by an aide. He held up the true paper sheets in his front right hand. “I have here the resignations of Admirals Walkin and Castal. Both believe they’ve failed in their duty and take full responsibility for the battle’s outcome.” With his left rear hand Amty fished a lighter from a shirt pocket and lit both papers. At the right moment he dropped the burning remnants into the bowl. “We were genuinely surprised by the Xhali. I’m not going to fire two men for having done their job to the letter. I have need for Walkin and Castal for the next few years. We have to improve our technology as well as dissuade any future ‘challenge battles’ with the Xhali. To that end I’ve instructed our new Foreign Affairs Bureau to compose a formal trade and military assistance treaty with the Duchy of Xhali.” Amty waited for a moment, taking in the surprised looks from his fellows. “Aside from the economic gains we could expect, think of the opprotunities to conduct joint training exercises and combined fleet deployments. There will be something for all of our bureaus to engage in.” “Is that wise, Chief?” asked Berges. “Are we prepared to ally ourselves with a nation we still know little about?” With
a look that again invoked the image of a college
professor Amty replied.
“Had the Xhali any deep-seated treachery they wouldn’t
have failed to finish the task force and move on to
invade our space. With the advantage of these small
fighting craft they could’ve dominated the fighting
until we came up with something to counter it. Yet
those craft and their motherships
left the system just days after the challenge. That’s
either a sign of foolishness, in case we had any
devious plans, or a sign that they trust us to keep
our word. With a treaty in place we can gain time to
create the new technologies we need as well as see if
these Xhali are worthy of being long-term allies.”
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