CHAPTER 7

Demetios Khandar, Admiral of the Alliance Fleets and Commander of the Golkos attacking force scowled at his superior, Grand Admiral Guenuel Koor. The vehemence with which he objected to his commander’s conclusions came very close to overstepping the bounds set by Golkos military protocol, but the seriousness of the situation warranted the risk. Khandar vented some of his frustration and anger with a heavy pounding of his fist on the metal conference table, attracting all eyes from the Alliance fleet representatives. The action did little to stifle the strained emotion in his Golkos voice, but it did serve to keep his volcanic temper from boiling completely over. “I must respectfully, but forcefully, disagree with this entire stratagem, Grand Admiral,” he stated stridently. “To follow this plan is to invite complete and utter disaster. We are playing directly into Alexander’s hands.”

“And how is that, Admiral Khandar?” The Grand Admiral replied with obvious disdain. She bore little affection for her underling, but the politics of Golkos dictated his station, and indeed she counted herself fortunate that her connections in the government were just slightly more powerful than his own, ensuring that she retained the station of Grand Admiral and not the caustic and glory seeking Khandar. Koor walked leisurely about the conference table, refusing to be upset at the interruption, just as she refused to acknowledge that their strategic situation warranted the deep cognitive probing Khandar was famous for. She smiled in a pleasant and confident manner and explained, “I am not quite certain I understand these misgivings of yours, Admiral nor how they might play into the hands of Alexander. Admittedly he has proved his competence as a general, but how that shall help him now is beyond me. We have almost four thousand ships set to strike him simultaneously from three different sectors. That is a four to one advantage, at least, Admiral. No empire has ever fought against such odds for any duration. We are in an insurmountably strong position. We cannot fail.”

The Admiral stood firm. “No Grand Admiral, you are wrong, we are in an incomparably weak position. We put our faith in allies with little heart for our cause. In my estimation neither the Syraptose or the Quotterim on our flanks will survive beyond their first engagement with Alexander. Alexander will remove them from the war quickly and efficiently, and then we will be left to face him with the Seer’koh and Golkos fleets alone. In that scenario we will have a lesser advantage in numbers, but a great disadvantage in tactics and morale. Alexander will have cut the Alliance’s power by a half and our forces will have to overcome a devastating psychological blow before they ever come to grips with the Terran Fleet.”

“Precede, Admiral,” the Grand Admiral said coolly. “You pique my curiosity. I wish to know how Alexander will carry out such a cunning plan.”

Khandar frowned, but he moved over to the holographic projector. In space hung the red amorphous form of the Terran Empire, and upon three sides the gathering Alliance fleets. The Admiral pointed to the Syraptose and Quotterim fleets, even now moving ever so slowly to their positions on the Terran frontier. “The problem lies not so much in our strategy of three fronts as in our simultaneous timing of attack. It assumes that the Syraptose and Quotterim arms of the invasion will attack Terran space with the same vigor that can be expected of the Golkos and Seer’koh. This is a fallacy. In reality the Syraptose and the Quotterim are already nervous at the thought of facing Alexander’s fleets. If he strikes them with the audacity he showed against the Chem, who are far more professional and proud minded, I have no doubt that both our allies will disengage and sue for a separate peace.

“Alexander is no fool, Grand Admiral. He knows from his ties with Chem and Scythia the practical and political limitations of our Alliance, and he is astute enough to perceive a way to deal with it. To await a frontal assault on all fronts and fight a defensive war would be madness. He will go on the offensive. Alexander will exploit his interior lines and divide his forces into one or possibly two strike forces and a holding force. The holding force will be just strong enough to present itself for battle. They will oblige us to drop out of superluminal for a confrontation only to harry us and withdraw, blooding us of ships and time. It will only be meant to slow us long enough for swift powerful strikes by the balance of Alexander’s fleets against our allies. When the Syraptose and Quotterim have been knocked out of the war Alexander will converge upon us, possibly presenting us with multiple fronts even as we are trying to do so with him. The difference will be that we shall face flanking fleets of equal strength, skill, determination.”

The Seer’koh’s ranking Admiral stood, his tail twitching in irritation. He hissed, “Your point is well taken and well conceived, Admiral Khandar, though I may say that it is equally likely that Alexander will strike the balance of our combined Golkos/Seer’koh fleet and attempt to neutralize it in one swift blow. That accomplished the Quotterim and the Syraptose would undoubtedly fail to press ahead. Either way Alexander gains his victory. What suggestion do you have? It is too late to deploy our forces in any other manner.”

“And too late to change our strategy, even if it were relevant or wise to do so,” the Grand Admiral added testily, not liking the Seer’koh’s accepting of Admiral Khandar’s concerns over her strategy.

Admiral Khandar smiled at the Grand Admiral’s discomfort, and he was prepared for the objection. He shook his head. “There is no need for redeployment. The basic tenet of multiple fronts is a sound one and we should by all means continue to use it. However, I do propose a change in the way we use these fronts. We can use the reluctance of our allies to our advantage.”

“How so?” The Grand Admiral asked petulantly.

“Alexander is seeking battle and that quickly,” Khandar told them. “He has no choice. As brave as his holding force might be it can only detain us for a limited time, if at all. We can choose to ignore his holding force and set a course for Terra herself. Since engagement at superluminal velocity is an impossibility Alexander must strike the Syraptose and the Quotterim quickly or he shall not have the opportunity to converge his fleets on the real threat of Golkos and Seer’koh. He must therefore force the battle. If the Syraptose and the Quotterim refuse the battle, however, he will be left in a quandary. The threat on this flank will remain, advancing on Terra. Eventually he will have no choice but to break off from his mad dashing about and come to face us. Then our allies shall advance on Terra where we can all converge in a region of space small enough for the entire weight of the Alliance to crush Alexander!”

The Seer’koh hissed and rattled in obvious agreement, “Well thought out, Admiral. The Seer’koh applauds your innovation. It is a bold twist worthy of Alexander himself!”

The Grand Admiral’s face contorted in consternation, but she said, “It is a thought worth consideration, Admiral. No doubt the part of running from Alexander and disdaining combat would come as a welcome relief to our allies. The plan has merits.”

“The plan has merits, Grand Admiral, but it also has limitations,” Khandar told her. “We have all seen how easily Alexander’s forces overcame the ponderous combat style we’ve used this last millennium. That must change if we are to ensure success. I propose we modify our tactics and emulate those we’ve seen the Terrans use. It is difficult to change I realize, but in this case Alexander has exposed some inherent flaws in our combat. We cannot allow him to exploit these flaws.”

“I cannot go along with that, Admiral Khandar,” the Grand Admiral told him. “To change our tactics on the eve of battle would be to invite disaster. The Captains and crews of our fleets would be in complete confusion. Disorder would reign, allowing Alexander to cut up our formations at will. No, our doctrine of massed firepower is still adequate to deal with Alexander so long as we maintain a mathematically superior force, and do not expect and depend on him to follow the same strategy.”

“But Grand Admiral, he shall be able to focus his strength on any part of our formations he chooses, thereby gaining an advantage in firepower. We shall not win such engagements.” Khandar argued.

“I disagree,” Grand Admiral Koor cut him off. “That is enough debate. I agree to modify the deployment of our allies. That should satisfy your need for input Admiral. I shall send the necessary orders to our allies. I hold this meeting adjourned.”

As the Grand Admiral turned to leave the room a dull concussion shook the ship. Every member looked up in surprise, but before anyone could say a word a strident voice came over the intercom explaining, “Grand Admiral, the fleet has come under attack!”

Grand Admiral Koor stood in amazement, but under the harsh glance of Khandar she finally stammered, “By the Terrans? Impossible! How many ships?”

There was a short pause and then a distant rumble from another concussion. Finally the bridge reported, “It is the Terrans, Grand Admiral, but we have only one ship on our screens.”

“One ship!” Koor roared, punching up the bridge battle display. In the center of the conference table the Golkos and Seer’koh watched a representation of their fleets bloom. Both formations were motionless and intact, but between them sped the tiny dark tube that was the Gagarin, spewing torpedoes and mines which flowered in multi-colored flame throughout the two fleets. The Grand Admiral was livid.

“The audacity! Destroy it!”

“No! Don’t you see they’re in the crossfire of our fleets! It is only a scout, jam his transmissions and pursue him when he’s clear of the formation!” Admiral Khandar argued emphatically, but the order was given and Koor refused to countermand it. In a moment the two fleets awoke with wild volleys of fire aimed at the speeding scout. The projectors and torpedoes, hampered by the enormity of the Gagarin’s speed, scattered around the small ship without effect, instead burning into the unshielded flanks of the Alliance formation. Within moments distress calls resounded across the ethernet. In five minutes the scout was gone, with nothing but a few scorch marks on her hull, and the sounds of stricken Alliance vessels in her wake. Before she disappeared from Alliance screens the Golkos and the Seer’koh heard one other thing over the ethernet they did not expect and did not want to admit: the derisive sound of laughter fading off into space.