Star Wolves (The Tribes of Yggdrasil Book 1) (21 page)

“Of course,” he said, throwing up his hands. “Off we go!”

They boarded an elevator and were whisked downward for several minutes. There was no apparent motion, and the only indication of movement was the decrementing floor numbers being lit up. They went down
thousands
of floors!

They stepped out of the elevator into an open area which looked out over a vast subterranean city.

Hal was shocked. This was as close to being outdoors as Hal could imagine, while actually being deep underground. There was an artificial sky that must have been a kilometer high at least; it produced a dim blue lighting.

Hal was impressed with the immensity and scale of everything he saw. These underground buildings were titanic, and the city stretched out before him for untold tens-of-kilometers.

“Magnificent,” Hal marveled.

“Thank you, Captain Olsen. We are very proud of our achievements.”

There were Dvergar in the tens-of-thousands walking around the city, and vehicles of various types flitting about the skies. Veli lead them to what must be public transportation. It was a train-like vehicle in a closed translucent tube. The tube went off into the distance.

The car they entered was empty and they sat on plush seats on either side of the car. As soon as they were seated, the car accelerated off through the tube, again with no apparent motion felt, but Hal could see the cityscape flashing by him outside at a dizzying rate. It had to be going hundreds of kilometers per hour Hal guessed, or maybe far more—the landscape was now a blur.

Veli noticed Hal lost in thought and interrupted him. “The speed is twelve-hundred kilometers-per-hour, in case you were wondering, Captain Olsen.”

Hal looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Efficient,” was all he could think to say.

In a matter of a couple of minutes the train coasted to a stop, and as it decelerated, Hal could see the scenery changing dramatically. The cityscape was replaced by clusters of buildings around small lakes. There were trees, much like he was used to, and bird-like flying creatures.

“The CEO likes a tranquil environment for conducting his day-to-day business,” Veli said.

Hal and Iforr were lead to a cluster of five buildings, the central building towered above the rest. In the lobby there was an attractive, if very stout, young woman seated at the reception desk, who stood immediately upon seeing the party arrive.

“Good morning, Junior Executive Vice-President Veli,” she said.

“And to you, Maarit. Is the CEO ready for us?” Veli asked.

“He is in another meeting at the moment, sir, my apologies. As soon as he is finished I will inform you.”

“Gentlemen,” Veli said, gesturing toward a luxurious waiting area.

At least they wouldn’t be uncomfortable, Hal thought.

H
igh Commander Clare Artman
sat alone in her state-room aboard the
Gungnir
, mulling over her plans to defend the billions of souls that made up the Solar Inclusive Democracy. She wasn’t anxious about the possible invasion, so much as she felt a desire for the best outcome. Like women warriors before her, such as Boudicca and Joan of Ark, she didn’t fear death—she feared failure.

Artman felt she was called by the gods to play her part in this grand adventure of life, and was driven to succeed. She knew there was no such thing as perfection, only the striving for it; she strove for it.

A tone sounded from her wristcom. “Yes?”

“M’am,”
her comms officer said,
“Supreme Commander Gilbert is ready to start the briefing.”

“Thank you, on my way.”

Artman made her way to the war-room aboard
Gungnir
. They expected the Hrymar anytime, so face to face meetings were eschewed in lieu of virtual conferences, that way every commander was at their post in case the shooting started.

She took a seat beside Captain Willms and the comms officer activated the conference.

Holographic images of a dozen people appeared around the table. Notably were President Dalia Rukundo, Head of the entire SID, Daryl Gilbert, Supreme Commander of all SID armed forces, as well as Lynette Rivera, Planetary Defense Force Prime Commander. Also attending was Soo Kenaugh, System Defense Force Prime Commander, and finally, Artman’s immediate boss, Archibald Lowe, Prime Commander of the Interstellar Armed Forces. The entire senior leadership of the SID were here, as were the members of the Alfar Red Council—minus Iforr, who was trying to obtain reinforcements and shift the tide of the upcoming battle.

Technically this was Prime Commander Kennaugh’s command, as she was in charge of defending the Sol system, but given that the leadership expected a possible land invasion, and extra-solar incursions, all military commanders were here.

“Thank you all for coming,” President Rukundo began, “I will save my normally verbose political speeches for another day.” She smiled weakly. “You are all here because you are the best at what you do, and the SID trusts you, as I trust you. There’s not much for me to say here, so…,” she gestured beside her, “I’ll turn the briefing over to Supreme Commander Gilbert.”

Artman liked that about President Rukundo. She was never longwinded when it mattered, in fact she was one of the most pragmatic and practical leaders she had ever known, and being succinct in a situation like this was telling.

Gilbert, a dark haired, athletic man in his fifties, nodded. “Thank you Madame President. We all know why we’re here. Our sovereignty and system wide security is under imminent threat from a possible Hrymar invasion. Normally, Prime Commander Kenaugh would lead efforts to defend the system, but based on the scale of the attack we believe is coming, I will lead this overall defense effort.”

Kennaugh, a striking Asian woman in her forties, closed her eyes and nodded in agreement graciously.

Gilbert continued, “I want current readiness statuses from each of the Prime Commanders. Prime Commander Rivera, will you please start?”

“Certainly, sir.” Rivera replied. “Our ground forces are as ready as they can be. If the incoming fleet is as large as we believe, then we expect some ships will get through and we may be hit with nukes. I don’t want to beat around the bush. That’s the hard truth of it. We have teams prepared for evacuation and clean up duty. We hope it will be enough. We have soldiers in highly mobile air-carriers to respond to any enemy ground troops that might land. If these
things
are slave traders, then they’re going to want to hit soft targets with high population centers. That means many cities in Asia which are densly-populated and under defended. We’ve been trying to balance the defense of those regions for years, but due to local religious and social constraints, they’ve always pushed back, and so we’re now faced with less than ideal defense conditions in that region.”

“Understood,” Gilbert said, “Prime Commander Kenaugh?”

Kennaugh nodded. “Much like my colleague, we find ourselves in a less than ideal defensive situation. Our problem is simply one of timing. Had this attack come next year, we would likely be very well prepared, but the bulk of our new System Defense fleet is still being built. As is, we have eight of the new Seax-class corvettes. They are 900 tonne vessels with double the acceleration of a typical starship, but sacrifice hyperdrive to achieve this. They’re fast, maneuverable, and perfectly suitable for intercepting pirates and the like, but they are
not
dedicated warships. That said, we need to be judicious in their use during this conflict.”

“Archy?” Gilbert said nodding toward Prime Commander Lowe.

Archibald Lowe was a stern looking man. His grey hair had come early and though he was only in his late forties, looked much older. What had been a full head of red hair and a thick beard to match, was now well mixed with white. Lowe spoke with a thick Scottish brogue, instantly establishin his ancestry.

“Aye, sir. Well, I took the liberty of discussing our tactical situation with Prime Commanders Rivera and Kennaugh before the meeting. Prime Commander Kennaugh has been gracious enough to put her corvettes under my operational command so I can coordinate the fleet as a single unit,” Kennaugh nodded at Lowe, “we will deploy the corvettes to drop mines in front of the flotilla once they are spotted. We now have the corvettes patrolling a large area of space, where we believe their flotilla will have to enter the Sol system. We’ve also prepared a few little surprises for these bastards- um, excuse my language, I meant- ”

“I think
bastards
is perfectly appropriate, “ President Rukundo said.

“Aye, thank ya, m’am. Well, as I was saying, we have a few surprises cooked up for these Hrymar. My right hand woman, High Commander Artman, has some very interesting theories on asymmetric warfare. It reminds me of my peoples history fighting the British soldiers in the Highlands, three centuries ago.”

Artman didn’t want to remind people that ultimately the British defeated the Scots, but they did pay a terrible price to clear the Highlands. She hoped they would fare better than the Highlanders did.

C
lare Artman sat
in the
Gungnir’s
war-room with Steffen Willms, Antonio Cadena, several other SID and Alfar captains.

“As I was saying, we have a total of eighteen ships, plus the three Alfar battleships, and no clear idea what the enemy strength will be, nor do we know exactly when they will arrive. This is a very bad tactical position. No, this is a
disastrous
tactical position. What I need to impress upon all of you here, is that we're playing for very high stakes; the fate of humanity is up for grabs people.” Artman looked around the room, surveying the faces of her Captains. She could feel their tension and see a lack of confidence in each face. The price of failure was just too unimaginable for her to be shaken though. She understood it intellectually, but internalizing that possibility was out of reach; this was a good thing.

The Earth had a long history of warfare, as long as civilization in fact. When mankind discovered agriculture and their numbers grew too large to manage, strife was inevitable; so began millennia of conflict over resources; this conflict now continued on a galactic scale.

“My message here,” Artman continued, “ is that nothing is off the table. We are talking about the survival and freedom of our very species. If you have an idea, however repugnant it might normally be, don’t hold back.”

“High Commander, what do we know about their weapons capability?” asked Captain Genna Dunnegan of the destroyer
Galatine
.

“Not much, Captain Dunnegan. Captain Olsen of the
Sleipnir
is the only one of us to have a direct ship-to-ship confrontation. They had missiles with nuclear warheads and plasma cannons. According to the sensor logs from the
Sleipnir
, their power outputs were in line with ours. But, that was a pirate ship, not a warship. Their military technology could be much more sophisticated.”

Dunnegan nodded.

“Let’s consider our resources. Yes, we only have eighteen ships, but what else can we bring to bear?” Artman swept her gaze around the room again, hoping to inspire some fresh thinking.

One of the Alfar stood, a tall man with dark red hair. “High Commander, may I offer a suggestion?” said Captain Caradoc of the Alfar battleship
Gullinbursti
.

“By all means, Captain,” Artman gestured for him to take the floor, and she sat down.

“You have eighteen
mobile
weapons. What about utilizing
immobile
weapons?” he asked.

“Like mines?” asked a man at the back of the room.

“Exactly so, but you also have another formidable resource at your disposal.” Caradoc said.

Cadena jumped up. “The ships! The one’s under construction!”

Caradoc nodded.

Cadena continued. “The unfinished ships at the yards on Luna Base and Mars. Most of them are nearing completion. All systems might not be functional, but weapons are one of the first systems installed and tested.”

Caradoc nodded again, then sat down.

Artman locked eyes with Caradoc and smiled. “I believe I owe you a drink, Captain.”

Caradoc tilted his head respectfully.

T
he
Gungnir
floated benignly
in the outer Solar system. Powered down, and with her stealth suite of electronic countermeasures,
Gungnir
would appear like a piece of rock or ice on enemy sensors—not much like a ship at all.

Captain Steffen Willms sat in his chair on the bridge, fingers steepled beneath his chin. There wasn’t much to look at on the video display. The outer planets were far enough away in their orbits, they couldn’t be seen as more than large stars with the unaided eye. Of course the Gungnir’s sensors were capable of zooming in optically, but Willms preferred this wide-view of his surroundings.

“Anything trip the detector grid yet?” he asked his sensor officer.

“No, sir. Not yet. I promise, Captain, as soon as anything happens I’ll let you know. I won’t take my eyes off the board,” his sensors officer said.

Willms let out a sigh. He knew he was harassing his bridge crew, but it was so frustrating sitting, waiting for something to happen. At least when they were out on patrol or maneuvers, there were things happening. This cat and mouse game was not to Willms’ liking.

Taking a cue from the Pirates, the SID had designed and installed a basic laser-detection-grid in several places in the outer solar system. Now they just had to wait for a mouse to spring the trap.

Willms got up out of his chair. “I’m going to grab a cup of coffee.”

“Yes, sir”

He wondered how Hal was doing with the Dvergar negotiations. He doubted they would be able to affect the outcome of this battle—that is, if these evil bastards ever came, he mused. Arriving at the mess, Willms fixed himself a coffee, stirring it several times, then brought the cup to his lips and took a tentative sip of the steaming beverage. Not bad, he thought.

“Sir!”
came a voice over his wristcom
“We have visitors!
”

“Shit.” Willms threw his coffee into the trash bin and ran toward the bridge.

As he ran down the hall he tapped his wristcom. “Sound general quarters, this is not a drill.”

Instantly, everyone around him was on alert, dashing to their posts.

Willms dropped back into his chair. “Ok, what have we got?”

His sensors officer looked back at him. “Sir, they keep tripping the grid. We’re at ninety ships and counting.”

Willms suppressed his horror and urge to react. “Ok, focus the gravitic sensors on that region. Let’s get some more data on our new friends,” Willms said.

“Aye, aye, sir.”

“
H
igh Commander
, it’s started,” came Willms’ voice over her stateroom-comm.

Artman stood up from her chair, took a deep breath and tugged the bottom of her uniform to straighten any creases. She looked at a small statue on her desk of the Norse god Tyr. He was the patron god of justice and righteous war. Artman hoped her offerings to Tyr had been accepted, and that all the northern gods and goddesses were on her side today. Whatever the day held, she knew she did her ancestors proud; she faced her wyrd with courage, and did all that was in her power. Even the gods could expect no more.

O
ne hundred and
thirty-eight enemy vessels charged toward Earth, and the great prize that lay there—billions and billions of slaves.

On the SID corvette
Eldee
, Captain Henry Broussard gnawed on his fingernails. An admittedly bad habit, one he swore he would quit … after the battle. Broussard watched the gravitic sensor display being projected on the bridge’s main view-screen. The great mass of Hrymar starships came toward him in a loose formation. Their numbers were so great, the red dots on the display looked like a red cloud of death.

“How long before we can fire?” Broussard asked.

“Countdown on-screen now, Captain,” his combatives officer replied.

Twenty-seconds to contact. Almost ready, Broussard thought. The extremely peppy corvettes had been tasked with harassing the enemy as they entered the system, then breaking off and re-grouping. Classic hit and run. The SID had adopted guerrilla-warfare tactics for this coming battle. The senior leadership preferred the term asymmetric warfare, which was more accurate, Broussard agreed.

“Ten-seconds to contact.”

The Eldee, and several other corvettes, were going to burst out from their cover behind floating chunks of rock, and deploy a mine field. Normally a minefield was deployed in a fixed location ahead of time, but as the Hrymar could have been coming from a very wide range of possible locations, mining the area beforehand was impractical. The challenge would be to get away unscathed. The corvettes were twice as fast as most SID vessels, so Broussard wasn’t overly concerned.