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Homeworld Return - blackjack
:: 05/05/01 ::
Chapter 15
The space around Hiigara was in chaos, a mirror reflection across three millennia of the Exodus. Fighters in huge formations dove upon groups of frigates and their escorts, tearing them apart in a huge barrage of ion and mass driver fire. Dueling destroyers sliced each other apart with ion beams - Cruisers and Carrier-Cruisers ripped holes in massive frigate walls. The Hiigaran ships, outgunned and outnumbered, fought with near suicidal courage and daring, damaged fighters slamming themselves into the hulls of Ytterbian craft in an effort to buy more time for the evacuation of Hiigara. Missiles wove themselves inbetween and around the warring craft, detonating upon reaching their targets, shredding large and small craft alike.
The battle was a perfect facet of the first epic battle for Hiigara, as a pitifully small defensive force struggled to buy time for their evacuating people. Only now, it was Exile against Exile.
A window opened slowly into the battle-worn Hell, and out of it slowly slid the Kuun-Lan. Its appearance did not go unnoticed, as a group of Ytterbian fighters changed course and headed for the massive vessel. Little did they expect the giant craft to open fire before they unleashed their deadly hail of ion bolts, the computer-aided targeting of the gunners dead on their marks. Rounds slammed into all eight of the craft directly into their soft belly, where the armor surrounding the powerful fusion drive was thinnest. The would-be attackers detonated all together, their collective debris pinging off the hull of the Kuun-Lan as it released fighters of its own into the foray. The Acolytes and Paladin bombers wreaked havoc on the startled hordes of Ytterbian ships immediately, driving ion pulses and heavy rounds deeply into the hulls of frigates and destroyers.
But as the initial element of surprise lost its hold, the triangular spearhead of fightercraft was blunted by a group of Ytterbian frigates who cut down the massed fighter swarms with incredible ease. Still, the Paladin bombers made it to their targets, guarded ferociously by Acolytes, and several large capital ships detonated.
It was then that the Somtaaw cavalry arrived.
The Kuun-Lan's battlegroup, consisting of several Deacons, Archangel dreadnoughts, and frigates of mixed types, hyperspaced in directly to the core of the Ytterbian formation. The collective barrage of mass driver fire, ion beams, and missiles, sliced apart an already damaged Carrier-Cruiser in a matter of seconds, then a pair of Destroyers who were occupied with the Paladin swarm bombarding their hulls.
Onboard the bridge of the Kuun-Lan, Hjihad rushed about, checking with his crewmen at their various posts. Normally he did not do such things, but now was a desperate time and he needed to check to be sure for himself that all systems were functioning at full efficiency, if more to salve his own desperation than for the good of his ship. Jakare stood comfortably, watching the battle turn more toward the Somtaaw's favor. She felt remorse at the loss of all the Ytterbian souls whom she knew to be dying every second the battle endured, but she knew that there was nothing that could be done about it. The war had to stop, no matter the cost to either side.
Off to her sides, technicians worked hurriedly to pin down the Ytterbians' communications channels and their corresponding encryption. They labored to find the master comm channel and tap into it, so that the Kuun-Lan could at least try to convince the Ytterbians of the truth - that the very people they were killing were their kin.
The battle waged on, the Ytterbians edging their way towards the glittering sphere of the Homeworld. The Hiigarans became more desperate; Blade after Blade slammed themselves, often with no result other than a gaping wound in the armored hide, into the hulls of Ytterbian capital ships. Slowly the Kuun-Lan herself came under attack, but it was a futile attempt - the deadly accuracy of the mass driver turrets tore apart any massed assault on the Somtaaw command ship.
Soon the Hiigaran fleet was gone, leaving only the Somtaaw to save their world.
* * *
Hjihad was now near panicked. The communications code cracking was taking too long. They had isolated the main fleet channel, but it was nothing but gibberish until decoded.
"Sajuuk damn it all!" he cursed to himself under his breath, just before he heard the victorious voice of the head engineer.
"We have it, sir! Patching in now!"
Hjihad turned and sighed with relief, but stopped himself. The difficult part was still ahead - he still had to convince the Ytterbians of the truth about their shared origin. "Put me on," he called, and no sooner had he spoken than the combat chatter of the Ytterbian fleet filled the bridge.
"-firm that, Bladerunner, we are rerouting fighter support now. Continue attack, help is on the way…"
"D-23 squad here, enemy frigate down. Repeat, Som'taa frigate is down."
"Good job, D-23, assist Bladerunner immediately."
"Confirmed."
"Command, situation critical! We have three, I repeat, three Som'taa destroyer class vessels in-zone."
"Engage immediately - hold them as long as you can."
"C.. copy Command. Engaging."
Hjihad listened carefully to the chatter, sounding so much like that which filled his own fleet's encoded channels, and then jumped at a patch of silence. He began speaking in a loud clear voice.
"Ytterbian vessels, this is the Somtaaw commander aboard the warship Kuun-Lan."
The collective squawk of protest and surprise from the enemy fleet answered him. "What the?… all units, prepare to switch command channel to Com-Tac 3…"
"No!" he protested. "I wish to speak with your commander!"
"Your wishes mean nothing, butcherer. We will not-"
"Yes you will! You have no idea who you are fighting!" he shouted.
"Is that some sort of a threat, Som'taa?"
"No," he practically pleaded. "You don't understand. We are not who you believe us to be!"
The voice sounded almost amused. "Who might you be then?"
Hjihad gulped to himself. He knew that the moment of truth was approaching. "We are not the Taiidani. We are Exiles, like you. This world was once our home, before the Taiidan came. They Exiled us, much as they did you, but we apparently returned first - over fifteen years ago. We broke the back of the Taiidani, and we reclaimed this world. Our races share the same blood!"
Silence.
Hjihad realized that a cold sweat had broken out on his forehead. He wiped it dry and instinctively looked to the ceiling, where the communications speakers were mounted, waiting for anything.
"We have no reason to believe you," the voice returned, loudly, and Hjihad jumped. "For all we know, this is simply a desperate ploy. All units, prepare to switch frequencies."
"He speaks the truth!" Jakare chimed in, shouting to the Ytterbian on the other end of the communication channel.
"Another Som'taa? Why should we believe you any more than the other?"
"Because I am not Somtaaw!", she cried. "I am Jakare Ga'artred, third child of the sixteenth blood generation of Clan Galein! I am your sister, and I tell you, this man speaks the truth."
"Impossible," the voice scoffed. "Jakare Ga'arted was lost in action when she and all members of her assigned Destroyer's crew were ambushed and eliminated by a Somtaaw fleet. Do you think that we know so little about our deployments?"
Hjihad wondered for a moment how it was possible for the Ytterbians to know so little and so much at the same time, but he was interrupted by Jakare's next angry outburst. "You know nothing!" she shouted, outraged at the Ytterbian officer's ignorance. "They did not kill us, they captured our ship. They showed me the truth! We are their cousins - we share the same lineage, just as he says! I do not lie!"
The next sentence from the Ytterbian commander sounded halfway between amused and stern, like a parent speaking to its foolish child. "Did you ever consider that perhaps they have been lying to you?"
She shook her head admandantly, despite obviously understanding that the speaker could not see the motion. "No, I have not. I believe them. And you must believe me. This war must end, without any more bloodshed. There has been too much already. What was a crusade in my eyes has now turned to an atrocious massacre against our own family. I beg of you, stop this madness now!"
The voice paused. Jakare felt herself tensing, waiting for the response.
"All units," the speaker blared with renewed force. "Switch to Com-Tac 3 immediately!"
"No!" Jakare and Hjihad yelled simultaneously.
Their protest met only static. Both stood, shocked, as the engineer tiredly took the now static-filled channel off the speaker system.
They turned to each other, but there was no time to say anything before the Kuun-Lan rocked with a massive blast. Time resumed for both of them as they were thrown to the deck by the detonation of an entire Support Module.
"Sir!" a tactical officer screamed. "We are under attack by all of the Ytterbian ships in our immediate vicinity! We don't have the firepower to fend them all off!"
The defeated air that enveloped Hjihad washed away, replaced by a ruthless determination. "Concentrate fire on the smaller vessels first! Destroy all strike craft and then engage the capital ships with all available firepower! Find the biggest ship in the area and train our Siege Cannon on it." His voice lowered with the next command. "If we're going down, we'll take some of them with us."
"Yes sir!" the man shouted, and began frantically punching control panels.
Jakare turned to him again. "What now?" she asked quietly.
Hjihad responded in a flat, calm monotone. "Now hold out as long as we can before we can't fight anymore, and then we detonate the ship. We do as much damage as possible. Maybe we can stop them for now."
She nodded ruefully.
He turned again, snapping a flurry of orders that his subordinates echoed. Jakare marveled at how quickly he had returned from his crushed state to this confident, commanding man. Perhaps it was a sort of hysterical, suicidal high. Whatever it was, she was glad of it, for she herself was feeling deflated, a feeling which might have surprised her if she had had the energy to be startled. Now, she felt listless and lifeless, as much because she felt an imminent crushing death approaching as because of a deep regret. The regret of death, of destruction, of all the needless lives that must be cast aside in order to reach truth. And now, she saw, that truth would probably never be revealed. Because of her people's stubbornness, an entire race would either die or be exiled - again. The cycle was about to begin anew, with all of its death and terror, and there was nothing that she could do to stop it. Even her own people would not believe her.
She was finally brought back to reality by a loud detonation not too far away. Jerking and ducking at the noise, more out of reflex and training than conscious thought, she realized that in fact one of the various command stations around the bridge had just detonated in a furious fireball. She saw Hjihad, desperately trying to smother the angry flames with a small glass ball which he hurled onto the flames. The container shattered upon the deck, blasting a hole in the wall of flames, but it was not enough to stop the other leaping flares. He tossed more onto the flame, the other crewmen too occupied with their duties to assist him, and she rushed forward and grabbed several of the globes from the box at his feet. Throwing as many as she could at once, their combined efforts smothered the fire in under a minute.
He did not even bother to thank her, being far too busy with preventing the immediate loss of his ship, and instead yelled out, "Status!"
A crewman shouted back, "Hull integrity is falling rapidly - 40 percent and dropping! We've lost 6 support modules and a pair of turrets! We just got a communique from the Taiidan - they're sending in reinforcements but they'll take time."
"We don't have time!" he snarled.
"Sir," the crewman asked tentatively, "should we get out of here?"
"No! We stay as long as possible! We give our people as much time as we can!"
The man looked downstruck, but then fitted his face into a resolute mask and nodded grimly.
The next minute dragged on and on for the Kuun-Lan's crew. The Ytterbians hammered the hull of the great ship with incredible force, and soon the ship's fusion engine was flaring with venting plasma, too damaged to hold full containment. Eventually, the last turret was knocked out, leaving the Ytterbian fleet with no opposition.
* * *
On the bridge of his dying ship, Hjihad Somtaaw looked into the maw of the massive Carrier-Cruiser sweeping down on them. He held his face in a impassive mold, and surprisingly enough felt little about his death. He was glad, he realized, to give his life to save as many as he could.
"Weapons!" he called suddenly. "Charge the Siege Cannon!"
"Yes sir!"
He turned slightly, his body held in profile to another officer, one of the few left standing. "Engineering, rig our core for self-destruct."
The resistance that he had expected did not come. Instead, only a resilience shone through in the answering voice. "Yes sir."
He looked over at Jakare, and for a split second she saw the struggling child inside him, the helplessness that he felt, and his regret for her and his entire crew. She said nothing, but simply tried to reach out to him somehow, to give him the strength that he needed in these final moments.
And then, suddenly, it was gone. They both blinked once, dazed slightly by the burst, and turned at the same time to the screen.
"Siege Cannon ready, sir!"
He nodded once and pointed straight at the Carrier-Cruiser with a grin, as if the other commander might see. "Fire and detonate on my mark!" He watched as the Carrier-Cruiser came about, obviously realizing what was about to happen. "Five!" he began. "Four!…Three!…"
Jakare closed her eyes.
"Two!…"
The next voice was not Hjihad's.
"STOP!"
The angry, decidedly alien voice sounded inside her head like a huge bell as she saw the huge hyperspace window open just ahead of them. Out of it slid a massive star-shaped vessel, its five arms stretched out as a barrier in between the warring forces.
"T-Mat!" Hjihad gasped, and Jakare found her breath short as well. The huge star-shaped vessel was larger than anything that she had ever seen, and it was at once both beautiful and deadly. The arms were long and fragile-seeming, but appeared to be sharp as a knife.
The ethereal voice, at once everywhere and nowhere, came again. "Cease your fighting, young beings. We have seen enough."
With that, there was a bright, intense flash of light, as if a star had exploded inside the bridge of the Kuun-Lan, and Jakare screwed her eyes shut to ward off the piercing glare. And then, as quickly as it had come, it disappeared, and she opened her eyes and looked to Hjihad, the question on her lips.
But he was gone.
<< Homeworld Return: Chapter 14 <<
>> Homeworld Return: Chapter 16 >>
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