Memory transcription subject: Captain Kalsim, Krakotl Alliance Command
Date [standardized human time]: October 16, 2136
When deprived of sleep for days, the crew began to get a little jumpy. The Terran ambushes became more sporadic along the journey, but persisted all the same. The Krakotl fleet was left with no choice but to stay on constant alert. I focused on keeping the other officers rested, while I shouldered the brunt of the shifts. My personnel became run-down despite the adjustment.
It was severe enough that I ordered Zarn to give essential crew members stimulants. The drugs left me wired enough that my wing wouldn’t stop twitching, which was a nuisance. But with our arrival slated for today, the soldiers couldn’t afford to be drowsy. Sharp wits were a necessity to clash with humans; perhaps that was the purpose of the ambushes all along.
Yet another disruptor pulse had shaken us up on the outskirts of the Sol System. The jarring effects were becoming routine, as we all tried to clear the fog from our minds. My eyes felt like a Mazic was sitting on them, but I forced them to stay open. The predators wouldn’t break us on my watch, not on the cusp of our destination.
My gaze shifted to the viewport. “XO, status report.”
“I’m detecting sensor anomalies. The humans may be somewhere nearby, but it’s tough to tell.” Thyon proved a godsend with his analytical mind. His skillset complimented my tactical understanding. “We’re already in the system’s outer orbit. This is their last chance to strike.”
The sensor readout revealed that we were less than a milliparsec from Earth. We anticipated the bulk of the Terran armada was waiting within Sol’s inner reaches. I had no doubt the humans set up FTL interference throughout their system, so there would be no further hyperspace hops. The rest of the journey could be handled sublight.
Our instruments picked up millions of planetesimals, which were mainly composed of ice. The circumstellar disc was a sprawling collection, which Federation scientists had noted as one of two debris planes. Our fleet filtered out all water-dominant objects, so they wouldn’t drown out enemy movement.
Where are the humans? If this is the border of their territory, you think they’d send someone to greet us.
“Is there anything to be concerned about with this location? Any weapons hidden in the belt?” I squawked.
The first officer cleared his throat. “The objects are spread too far apart to pose a threat, sir…as visual indicates. I detect no mining activity or research stations.”
“There has to be something unusual,” I pressed. “Humans don’t just pick their spots at random.”
“All I notice is that they just powered down the FTL disruptors. Perhaps their primitive defenses are malfunctioning? We could shave a few hours from our travel time, if we can get in one more jump.”
Suspicion filtered through my tired brain, and I urged myself to consider the circumstances. It seemed unlikely that all of humanity’s defenses would collapse at the same time. The only reason they would halt the signal would be to allow their own ships through. But there were no unknown drive signatures on sensors. We should see any predators coming with ease.
As if to mock my certainty, a massive chunk of ice blinked into existence amidst Krakotl ranks. It plowed into the heart of our formation, dwarfing the ships it steamrolled over. Panicked chatter barked over the radio, and our Federation allies scrambled to expend an orbital bomb on the object. We managed to crack the first planetesimal, but dozens more surfaced on several headings.
My talons undid the sensors’ filter, and hundreds of warp blips emerged on my screen. The predators predicted that we would filter out anything icy, which rendered their strike invisible to our instruments. I could appreciate the deviousness of their ploy; human creativity was leaps and bounds beyond the Arxur.
I leaned over the comms panel. “ALL FEDERATION VESSELS, deploy your FTL disruptors now!”
The subspace indicators vanished, as enough of our allies complied with my order. Still, dozens of hijacked planetoids, twenty times the diameter of our craft, were enough to cause a headache. We needed to take evasive maneuvers if any were on trajectory for our position.
Jala puffed out her chest with excitement. “And so it begins. I want to be the one to push the button when we burn their cities!”
There was no time to worry about her derangement. It didn’t matter if she was the one dropping the payload, or if I handled it myself. As the one giving the orders, the burden of responsibility fell on me. I knew what a terrible deed we were about to commit; the mental images gnawed at my conscience.
At least the creatures from past exterminations had no foreknowledge of their demise. I wondered how many humans’ last thoughts would be of their families. Those unsightly hunters had more in common with us than most Krakotl would like to admit. Their desperation to survive and their collectivism resonated with our own.
It is truly a shame that predators are prone to destruction and violence. There is only room for one of us in the galaxy, I reminded myself. This crew is sacrificing something of ourselves, so that the Federation has a chance to survive.
Nonetheless, I respected how the hominids utilized every asset at their disposal. Dozens of Krakotl warships lie crushed or totaled around us; the Terrans never had to rear their ugly heads. One icy object was barreling toward our location, despite the pitiful attempts to obliterate it. The asteroid’s magnitude left no doubts that our hull would implode, if it connected.
“The damn inbreds strapped a warp drive to a space rock. Who the fuck does that? Or even thinks to do that?!” Thyon spat.
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I hummed in thought. “Someone who sees anything as a potential weapon. A predator much more dangerous than the Arxur.”
The Farsul gritted his teeth. “Glad you’ve seen the light, Captain.”
“I’ve always ‘seen the light.’ Now quit with your snide remarks, and find us a way out of this mess!”
Thyon jerked his floppy ears in disdain, before issuing new orders to navigations. The asteroid was propelled forward by its existing momentum. It was near enough that I could glimpse the imperfections on its surface. Distant sunlight glinted off the watery composite, and washed it in a serene, ultraviolet hue. That color would look a lot less beautiful smashed up against our plating.
Our vessel executed a sharp turn, and rerouted power to acceleration. The state-of-the-art warship didn’t seem to cover the space fast enough; it felt like a predator was nipping at our talons. My stomach somersaulted, as the projectile scraped by nearly atop us. We cleared the collision course with mere seconds to spare.
The humans might’ve hoped to incite panic, so that they could cow us through our instincts. We had to remember that the stakes were our entire civilization; our right to roam the galaxy in freedom and dignity. Quelling my nerves, I contemplated which weaponry could take the icy mass out. Careful placement of explosives should still conserve firepower for the main event.
Movement flashed in the viewport’s corner, a streaking blur of metal. My weary brain took a full second to process the new data. An allied vessel was gunning straight toward us; a head-on collision wasn’t something either of us would survive. But the fools were preoccupied dodging their own asteroid, and seemed oblivious to our presence.
“Move the blasted ship!” I screeched. “Can you not see we’re going to crash?!”
The navigations officer curled his neck with trepidation, as he frantically brought our nose upward. There was a brief scraping sound, from the friendly brushing our underbelly. The artificial gravity failed to compensate for another abrupt change. A forceful tug sucked us toward the rear of the bridge, and I lost my balance on my perch.
My wings fluttered frantically. There wasn’t enough time to gain proper lift, but I wanted to slow my fall. The air beneath my cyan feathers allowed me to drift, and I glided down the slanted gravity well. Other Krakotl also used shared instincts to cushion their fall.
Thyon wasn’t as fortunate; flight didn’t exactly grace his tubby form. The Farsul’s stout paws offered little traction, and his curved hindlegs made his bipedal stance… precarious in the best circumstances. His jowls quivered with fear as he tumbled backward. There was a sickening crack from his head slamming against the support wall.
“Thyon! XO, you will answer when I speak to you! Give me some sign that you’re alright,” I hollered.
The first officer didn’t respond. He was crumpled in a limp heap, with a concerning amount of blood pooling around him. What if the poor guy was dead? Regardless of his attitude, the last thing I wanted was to send him home in a body bag.
Jala clicked her beak together in delight, and I shot her a warning look. She was elated that my second was knocked out of commission, since it cleared the return of her old post. It was bothersome that a person could derive pleasure from another’s misfortune, but I suppose it was no different than Zarn relishing human suffering. Soldiers like them could perform their duties without remorse, at least.
Focus on the battle, I chided myself. You cannot get distracted and let the humans surprise you again. Honor Thyon’s wishes.
The gravity adjustment kicked in at last, and my crew members scrambled back to their posts. The navigations officer rushed to level our heading. We were fortunate to escape with our frame intact, and only a few dozen allies taken out. The most imaginative strategist wouldn’t have accounted for asteroids warping out of nowhere.
I glided over to the downed first officer, containing any untoward displays of grief. His russet fur was matted with blood, and he was unresponsive to poking. My talons locked around his hind ankle, digging into the pulse point. Relief coursed through my veins, as I felt a faint heartbeat.
“Doctor Zarn!” I sent a transmission to the medical bay, praying that the spiteful Takkan had any healing aptitude. “My security team is transporting the first officer to your lab. Serious head trauma, internal bleeding.”
“Understood. I’ll attend to the necessary preparations, Captain,” Zarn replied.
The security personnel carted the unconscious Farsul away, and I suppressed my concern. With neural trauma, the officer might be looking at permanent damage even if he was stabilized. There was no telling what timeframe to expect for Thyon’s recovery, but I doubted he’d be back within the mission’s span. It hadn’t been within my forecast to lose anyone this early in the mission.
My attention reluctantly returned to the battlefield, where the Federation fleet was trying to regroup. Dormant Terran ships crept out from behind planetoids, and descended on any stragglers who strayed too far from the group. The chaos of the asteroids had broken our tight formation. Numbers were our primary advantage; we would be fine as long as we stuck together.
They cannot stop all of us, or even a majority.
Jala ordered a sizable contingent of our fleet to charge at the Terran raiders, to deter them from pressing their luck. I blinked in irritation, as she claimed that the command was authorized by me. Lying was not a quality I appreciated, especially when it was done to get her way quickly. Then again, perhaps it was better to let her make the time-sensitive decisions.
“Burn any humans that try to run! We have to kill every one of them!” Jala shrieked.
The atmosphere was solemn, as her phraseology was a bit too honest. She projected a certain vindictiveness that needed to be tempered down. This mission couldn’t be about inflicting suffering, or killing for killing’s sake. That was not why I wanted my crew to think we were doing this.
I tucked my wings behind my back. “Don’t let a single predator go, if you can stop it. The more humans that escape, the greater the chance they retain a viable population.”
“Why is that such a bad thing, sir?” an engineering assistant asked.
“There’s two futures, son: the one where we survive, and the one where they do. When cancer metastasizes, it infects and consumes all healthy tissue nearby,” I answered. “Is that what you want for the galaxy? Consider this an early detection…before it spreads to our heart.”
A group of Terran fighters were blazing away, after punching at our weakest links. To my relief, my crew locked onto a pair of targets and chased them with plasma. Krakotl warships converged on the cluster like locusts; they sent those “fearless hunters” running off like Venlil.
The humans were surprisingly slippery, finding an escape route with minimal casualties. Their ships evaded with vaulting maneuvers, and a plethora of defensive countermeasures were built into their hardware. For all my knowledge of predators, I hadn’t expected these ones to be so adept at fleeing. This was a positive sign, if they had so little courage.
My eyes landed on the faint blue dot on the horizon, which the predatory opportunists were retreating toward. Humanity was poised to make their last stand; the poor saps would perish without any reason to be missed. We were close enough to Earth to detect thousands of ship contacts, fanned out as a protective ward. A smarter species would’ve used those vessels to flee, if they knew of our arrival.
That territorial nature does have its downsides. They’d rather fight and die, just like we predicted.
The first wave of Terran defenses were beaten, and I suspected that was the toughest stage of transit. That asteroid trick would only work once. We had a clean shot to the predator’s home. Now, that small fleet was all that stood between us and orbital supremacy.
We were so close to eliminating the menace that was humanity.