Star Force: Ysalamir (Star Force Universe Book 54) Read online

  “Tennisonne. He says he has a priority project for the entire system.”

  “Where is he?” Bvitti said, likewise shocked, but focusing his mind right onto business.

  “Observation deck 18. I didn’t know where you were so I told him to wait there.”

  “Let’s go,” the Yard Master said, jumping into a hop/run between other Kiritak and a scattering of additional races. Most of the workers here were Kiritak, though the system itself had more than 2,000 different racial work crews spanning the 23,734 shipyards.

  Ever since Epsilon Eridani had been recolonized after the V’kit’no’sat war, it had been tasked to replace what Earth had originally been in terms of an industrial powerhouse. The next door neighbor system was now more of a specialty, legacy zone, reserved for only the most elite within the empire. It had decent shipyards, but not even a tenth of the capacity of Epsilon Eridani.

  It wasn’t the largest in the empire, but it was in the top tier and if Tennisonne had a project for the entire system that meant it had to be pulling a massive amount of resources that only a top tier industrial system could, but still it was odd that he was coming here when there were larger systems that could easily take on twice what Epsilon Eridani could.

  Right now Bvitti’s production queues were pumping out primarily drone replacements for the fighting on the Hadarak front, but he also had a number of warships, transports, and specialty craft like cradles and mobile Star Forges in the yards, not to mention the smaller stuff like dropships that he could spam produce with even one yard. His actual queue list was far more extensive, and he was responsible for it all. He had other Yard Masters in charge of each individual shipyard, but as the Uber Yard Master he was in charge of the entire system’s production, and it was a position he had lucked into when the rebuilding of Epsilon Eridani began and he’d ridden it all the way up to its current state.

  He hadn’t been reassigned or someone brought in to oversee him as the system grew, so he assumed Duke Shegallo was content with his performance. The Jennsto was the only one of his race to make the Monarch ranks to date, and he had a withdrawn personality that always left Bvitti guessing when he spoke with him. Other than his words, he couldn’t read the Monarch at all, and that was always unsettling. Bvitti could get a feel for Kiritas, Humans, Calavari, and dozens of other races he was familiar with and he could guess at others, but the Jennsto were completely emotionless as far as facial expressions went with their gel-like flesh completely unmoving with no facial tics, smiles, or any subtle cues that most races had.

  And he didn’t interact with Shegallo much in person, mostly through requisition orders that were logged and it was up to Bvitti to make sure they got completed. The Duke had been in this system for more than 20,000 years, and it had been under his guidance that Epsilon Eridani had really begun to shine as an industrial powerhouse once again.

  But that was only because of the imports from other systems. Mining efforts local to the system could produce enough raw materials for most of the construction, but the more rare items had been exhausted long ago, at least those that were easy to get. In order to get the drone production at the levels needed for the war there were constant convoys jumping in and out from neighboring systems carrying the materials that Epsilon Eridani was lacking.

  Keeping track of all of them and making sure the yards had enough supplies to keep them producing constantly was also Bvitti’s responsibility, and some days they came close to not making it, but he hadn’t missed one project since Shegallo had taken command of the system. Whatever Tennisonne wanted would throw a monkey wrench into that, and there were plenty of other systems out there scrambling to find the necessary supplies to fuel their yards and a diminishing list of heavy mining systems without yards of their own to consume them.

  Expansions into less opportune mining environments were ongoing, and so far Star Force was staying ahead of the curve…but just barely. And that was just in drone production. Bvitti had heard stories of other projects being delayed because of the need for evacuee housing to be built, with entire planets being prioritized for emergency construction so they would have a place to send those they were rescuing from the Hadarak.

  Thankfully Bvitti didn’t have to deal with that, and his drone production was the top priority within Star Force, for if they ran out of them then there wouldn’t be much fighting going on. The drones were the backbone of the fleet, and they were used as disposable weapons that by definition had to be replaced and then transported out to the warships so they didn’t have to come back to pick them up and waste all that transit time.

  Fortunately Star Force had massive transports known as ‘Mantises’ that were spindly constructions more than a thousand miles long and looking like little more than a piece of string that was fraying, but on those fraying strands the newly build drones would attach like legos, forming a long cubical column that would be pulled from one star to another at slower than normal speeds, but they could deliver over 1 trillion small drones each while sucking up a huge amount of fuel to transport them all to target without taxing the drones own fuel reserves. That meant warships could pick up a load and go with no delay, and the Mantises only came to top tier systems like Epsilon Eridani that could fill them up completely in order to reduce travel time.

  When Bvitti arrived at the observation deck he found it moderately full of people, but it wasn’t hard to find Tennisonne in his Mastertech uniform. The gold/white uniform appeared similar to those of other disciplines of ultra high rank, but the embroidery on the sleeves and legs made it clear that this empire leader was a tech as opposed to a naval officer, miner, pilot, etc.

  “Tennisonne,” the Kiritak said, slowing to a walk off the man’s left as he looked out the faux windows that extended up some 5 stories from the floor and gave the impression that you were literally standing on the edge of space overlooking the construction of numerous drones in more than 1000 slips. “I am Uber Yard Master Bvitti. It is an honor to make your acquaintance. How can I be of service?”

  “I have been ordered by the trailblazers to fabricate a new weapon. A large one. I need Epsilon Eridani to do it.”

  “How large?”

  “Uncertain, but it will be at least 800 miles long, dense construction, and we need expedited work. At least half of all production queues need to be made available when they complete current assignments.”

  “Half?” Bvitti said, surprised. “What kind of weapon is this?”

  “Something we only have in theory. This will be the prototype and I anticipate the design will change as we progress.”

  “Discarded progress?” the Kiritak asked, using a term that only techs would understand. It referred to building bad technology that would be tossed away after gaining research data from it, often on how not to build something. That meant this project wouldn’t be building one massive ship, but perhaps 100 of them in pieces over time as revisions were made.

  “Indeed…and on a massive scale. I need to work as fast as possible, so I anticipate half of your production. It could be more.”

  “If this has trailblazer priority, you can have it all. I’ll have to coordinate a shuffling of production with the Duke and ease out of current obligations, but I’ll get you what you need. Do you have something to start with?”

  Tennisonne pulled out what looked like a small, old fashioned pen, then suddenly it produced holographic blueprints that he began shuffling through using the ‘pen’ as a stylist without it causing the holograms to flicker at all despite it also being the source of them.

  The two conversed for nearly two hours, oblivious to the other people coming and going around them, all of whom gave them a wide berth and had no idea what it was they were talking about, for they were using shorthand and some telepathy on Tennisonne’s part for the classified details, then Bvitti was off to get the ball rolling…for he had to completely remake the system’s production capacity for a ship too large for any existing slip.

  What Tennisonne ha
d planned was insane, and in Bvitti’s estimate was going to be a lot longer than 800 miles, but he’d build whatever Tennisonne drew up…after having to build an entirely new shipyard to handle this new monster Star Force was designing.

  A proposed Hadarak killer under the project name Ysalamir.

  “Ysalamir? You jerk,” Paul said when he read the update in his quarters after coming back from a heavy workout. He hadn’t showered yet, and was dripping sweat on the carpet as he stood in the center mentally interfacing with the computer and getting all the updates telepathically sent to him. “It’s supposed to be, Jarvis.”

  He knew Tennisonne hated being called Stark, and Paul likewise liked/hated being called Grand Admiral Thrawn, with the Ysalamir being a reference to the character that the trailblazer didn’t miss. Grand Admiral Thrawn was a strategic genius, but he was also evil, and that latter part was something that Paul didn’t care for. Tennisonne knew that, so it was his counter dig every time Paul referred to him as Mr. Stark, for Tennisonne didn’t care for Tony’s Stark’s recklessness. To Paul that was part of the charm of that character, but Tennisonne hated it.

  But now the entire project would be called Ysalamir, so the Mastertech was turning the tables on the trailblazer and getting his dig permanently labeled. Paul mentally tipped his hat for the turnabout, but he also understood the second meaning to the name. Ysalamir were lethargic fictitious creatures that stayed put and created a ‘bubble’ that negated Force powers. That was also Tennisonne’s way of reminding Paul that this wasn’t going to be a mobile warship, but a big fat gun that was going to be vulnerable, hard to move, and all around a pain in the ass to manage.

  But if it could hurt the Hadarak, then Paul would deal with the rest gladly.

  There was also a third meaning, and one that perhaps Tennisonne had happened into accidentally, or perhaps not. Paul wasn’t sure, but if he took on the mindset of Grand Admiral Thrawn, who had no Force powers himself, the greatest frustration and threat to him was those that could use the Force. It was an unbeatable power that had to be avoided and countered, often with many troops and casualties…which was a suitable metaphor for the Hadarak. Ysalamir had been Thrawn’s answer to the Force-users, and maybe it would also be Star Force’s answer to the Hadarak.

  “I hope,” Paul said as he finished mentally reviewing all the updates from Mr. Stark and others, then he headed for the shower. If anyone could figure it out, it would be Tennisonne, but Paul could tell he didn’t have an answer yet. Just a theory as to how to recreate Shen’s weaponry using technology…and boost it. The latter part was the most shaky, but even recreating biological weapons that had no blueprints through guessing was an enormous challenge, for Uriti genetic coding was not fully present in all their cells…especially their outer ones.

  All in all, Paul wasn’t counting on it, but he expected Tennisonne to give him at least some small upgrades to his warships and drones. Even a 1% increase in damage would be worthwhile, for right now every engagement had to be in full on swarm mode to do any decent damage, and they were forced to do it over a considerable length of time.

  Paul had 4 Hadarak kill markers emblazoned on the hull of the Excalibur, two of which were solo kills. The others had been in conjunction with other Borg-class vessels teaming up. But there had been far more that had been damaged and gotten away, and without a means to quickly deliver damage…meaning in less than a single hour…that wasn’t going to change for the smaller ones, and there was no chance of killing a large one.

  Any progress would be welcome, but Paul had to deal with the here and now and work with what he had, so he was enroute to another Tier 1 Hadarak that had broken off from a convoy group of them, and in another 4 days or so he’d get a chance to add another kill mark to his hull…though the odds of that happening were about 1 in 23 based on prior encounters.

  If he had a V’kit’no’sat Harthur or the Star Force Spaceball to work with that would be different, but those were all out and about hunting Hadarak with support fleets. That left Paul and the other trailblazers to go after Hadarak on their own and do as much damage as possible across the warzone, for if they grouped up and covered less area, more worlds would be destroyed before they could be evacuated. Even damaging Hadarak delayed their movements, so while Paul didn’t take credit for wounding Hadarak, he was shielding more worlds by doing so…at least temporarily.

  “Small victories,” he reminded himself as he slid into the shower tube. “Small victories…for now.”

  2 years later…

  Tennisonne slammed his fist down onto the tabletop through the floating holograms that didn’t budge, though the table did slightly, even though it was affixed to the floor. It vibrated audibly, with Bvitti looking at Tennisonne carefully.

  “Did you hurt your hand?”

  “I don’t like this, but there’s no other way.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve got every Mastertech in on this, Bvitti. We’re all hitting a wall. We can keep at this forever. We might make a breakthrough, we might not. We’re standing still and we have to keep moving. To do that we need help.”

  Bvitti frowned. “From who?”

  “The techs who are millions of years older than us,” Tennisonne said angrily. “The ones who designed and built the weapons blueprints that we learned from.”

  “You want the V’kit’no’sat’s help?”

  “At this point, they’re the ones I distrust the least, and the ones who stand to lose the most if we fail. If any of you have a better idea, please state it now,” Tennisonne said to his assembled staff of 32, which included 6 other Mastertechs here in person, but no one answered.

  “That’s what I thought. Keep working on it. I’ll inform Davis and see how he wants to handle this. If you come with something…anything, don’t be shy about it. I’d prefer to keep this in-empire if at all possible, but short of that we don’t have a choice other than waiting, and the longer we wait more people die and the stronger the Hadarak army becomes,” he said, hitting the table again. “Damn it, I wish we had the answer to this, but I’m not going to waste more time. We need help. Period.”

  “What about the Zak’de’ron?” one of the others asked.

  “That’s up to Davis and the trailblazers to figure out. Personally I trust them less because we know less about them, but…yeah. That’s an option. So are the Knights of Quenar or…others. Keep at it,” he said, visibly frustrated at he hit the table a final time then walked off in a hurry to find a comm terminal and send a secure message to the Director and leave this decision to him.

  But Tennisonne knew, in his gut, that they weren’t going to figure this out soon enough on their own. They needed help, and the list of civilizations out there that had knowledge superior to Star Force were few and far between, and none of them were truly allies.

  And as the old saying went…

  Better the enemy you know than the one you don’t.

  4

  February 1, 128497

  Itaru System (V’kit’no’sat Capitol)

  Wendigama

  Mak’to’ran’s head smacked the ground, momentarily disorienting the Era’tran before he kicked up and then rolled over, getting his feet back on the mat while his opponent was driven back half a meter and didn’t immediately pursue, letting his downed sparring partner get back up before coming at him again.

  A head butt followed, followed by a counter head dip and slap that only partially worked. The two continued to raise and lower their heads, moving them in and out and sideways trying to get leveraged as they wrestled each other. Their shorter arms would only come into play once a cross was completed, and it happened when Mak’to’ran succeeded in his 5th head fake and got past Gor’nak’s snout jab.

  He got his head slightly higher and to the right, then pushed with his neck sideways as his hands came forward and grabbed Gor’nak’s face and pushed down…then Mak’to’ran jumped up and got halfway on top of him, using his mass to smash him into the
ground. But that was the best he could do, for soon the hand to hand expert rolled him over with an ankle grab and twist, then his huge tail whipped around so fast Mak’to’ran didn’t expect it.

  The next thing he knew he was flat on the ground and Gor’nak was standing up beside him, waiting patiently.

  “You are still not acclimated to concussions,” he lectured. “But it will come in time.”

  Mak’to’ran rolled onto his feet then stood up. “How long?”

  “Two seconds, perhaps 3.”

  Mak’to’ran growled, knowing that meant defeat and probably death in a real fight. “How did you get your tail around so fast?”

  “A million years of practice distilled into three movements. First I latch onto you as a counterweight. Then I push off the ground with my tail, getting my hips moving in an arc towards you. Lastly, I reverse my tail once my momentum is underway and it lands with considerable force.”

  “Indeed it did.”

  “You must experience many such hits before your body begins to adapt to them. Naval service has made you too soft. One disruption attack is all a good opponent needs to open you up to a killing blow.”

  “As you keep repeating, but it makes me adjust no faster,” Mak’to’ran complained.

  “You are improving, albeit slowly.”

  “I am not the only one,” he said, referencing the changes being made throughout the Era’tran at the suggestion of others and with his blessing. His race wasn’t going to wait until the Hadarak got to their worlds and deposited minion armies on them to kill his people before they started to prepare, and when the first line of defense failed, they needed others. Including hand to hand combat against many minions of equal or smaller size. If the Era’tran had to use their general citizenry as a reserve force, then they needed to get acclimated to the bodily combat, for a great many of the minions were melee and did not stand at range and fire as most ‘civilized’ combat entailed.