Birthright: Battle for the Confederation- Turmoil (7 page)

"What,"
Loren asked quietly, "that's it?"

"We should be
so lucky," Renner replied.  "Since the exercise hasn't ended, it
means we'll have to escort the hostage outside."

"Drisk are such
masochists," Loren said with a grin.

"It's what
makes us such fun at parties," Renner replied.

"Alright
then," Loren said as he grabbed the shoulder of the floating hostage bot
and placed it between himself and Renner.  "Let's get out of here.  I'm
getting thirsty and need a big mug of some of your local brew; Devil Spit, I
believe it's called."

Renner's head
snapped to Loren's direction as he eyed him in a new light.  "Excellent
choice," he said approvingly.

"Drisk friend
of mine showed me the light," Loren said with a mischievous grin.

"Ready." 
Renner waited for Loren to nod, and then they moved out.  Their progress was
quick, with Renner in the lead catching and shooting two bots as they
quick-walked down the narrow hallways.  When they got to the last room, they
switched positions as Renner was running low on his energy cells from being up
front.

Loren waited for
Renner to tap him on the shoulder, then ducked into the last room and swept it
quickly, spotting one last bot hiding in the corner.  He gave it his usual
treatment of a double-tap to center mass with a head shot on the way down, then
opened the door that exited the shoot-house.  Renner was right there with him,
hostage bot sandwiched between the both of them.

A red light flashed
and a claxon blared twice to let them know the exercise was over.  The hostage
bot spun in place and floated off to a small hatch that had opened in the
wall.  Loren and Renner both checked their sidearms and put them back in their
holsters, then peeled off their web gear, sensors, and padding.

"I'm ready for
that beer now," Renner announced.

Twenty minutes later
they were seated at the far end of a local bar just off the military base.  It
was midday and the place was mostly empty, so they'd ordered their drinks and
lunch and were sitting peacefully.

"That was some
pretty impressive shooting in there," Renner began.  "Were you a
grunt or something before you went to a command position?"

Loren chuckled. 
"Thanks; you weren't exactly shooting yourself in the foot back there,
either.  Actually, I was a pilot.  CAG of Avenger's air wing, then found myself
being told I'd make a great XO by the captain."

"Where did your
current XO disappear to?" Renner asked.  It was somewhat rare for officers
to advance too many grades on one ship; usually they headed to wherever there
were open positions.

"That was my
Drisk friend I was telling you about," Loren replied as he raised his mug
in salute.  "Delgin Marks.  He was killed on the first day of the war, by
an Enkarran torpedo of all things.  Now we're buddies with them."

Renner raised his
mug as well and they clinked glasses, then drank a sip in silence.  "I
don't suppose you've seen the ship that did it since you and the Enkarrans
entered into that treaty?"

"Better than
that," Loren replied deadpan.  "That captain was on my ship a while
back.  Actually saved our hides in a fight."  He sighed as his mind
wandered back to that day and the swirl of emotions he'd experienced.  Anger,
that the Enkarran captain had been on his ship.  Acceptance, that being upset
about it forever wouldn't help him win the war.  Finally, a sort of
understanding.  The Enkarran hadn't been malicious or evil; he'd been following
his orders, just as Loren would have.  It didn't make it any easier that his
friend was gone, but Loren tried to see all the sides of the story, as when he
wondered what the Enkarran- Captain Josias Krent- was trying to cope with, his
anger usually dissipated.  Besides, the Enkarrans had lost their entire home;
the Primans had claimed the whole of the Empire as their own, and to this day
were continuing to displace Enkarrans by the millions as they sent them away
from their homes and off into space to search for a new place to live.  At
least Loren could return home when this was all over.  Provided the
Confederation won.

"Awkward,"
was the only thing Renner could reply with, and Loren barked out a quick laugh.

"That it
is," he admitted, "but we carry on, I guess."  Shifting in his
seat, Loren looked at Renner seriously before continuing.  "Actually, I
guess that's why I'm here.  You know how the game is played; our bosses go have
photo ops and tell the press how much they like each other while we get the
real work done."  He set his mug down after another generous pull.

"So," he
asked, "with the Primans on the way, is there anything we can do for each
other?"

Renner's smile
faded, replaced by what Loren would only describe as weariness.  After taking a
minute to apparently collect his thoughts, he turned to Loren and leaned in
closer.

"You know the
official position of Lemuria is that we are not concerned about being
invaded," he began.  "There have been a number of nonaligned worlds
that have been bypassed by the Primans as they've advanced through this part of
space, and our government currently sees no reason why that would change."

"Even with what
happened to Carline a few days ago?" Loren urged.  "We got word just
before we left Avenger for the surface that there'd been another system
captured as well.  Some of the ship emissions signatures match in both forces,
so we're assuming that it's some sort of roving cleanup crew that they're
sending out to call on systems they want to secure."

Renner only nodded. 
"We've seen those reports, too.  Loren, you can see by now that while we
have some means to defend ourselves, that won't get us anywhere now.  Back
before the Primans came, solid alliances, some good exports to sell, open trade
and a reasonable military presence were enough to ensure sovereignty for any
system who chose to go their own path.  Pirates and petty criminals were the
worst we had to worry about.  But the Primans are too much for us.  Hell,
they're too much for you and the Talarans, not to put things too bluntly.  The
only way we can hope to be left alone is if we keep our heads down and don't
get involved.  I wish I could say I believed that would be enough, but I
don't.  However, there's not much else we can do.  You're not offering to send
in a fleet, are you?"

Loren only shook his
head grimly.  "I asked what we could offer Lemuria, treaty or otherwise,
but as you've pointed out we're strapped the way it is.  We couldn't offer
enough combat ships to make a real difference, I'm afraid."  He slowly
spun his mug of brew on the bar's surface, watching the condensation drip onto
the heavily lacquered wood.

"Then all we
can hope for is some consideration for our non-involvement," Renner
concluded in a tone that said he wasn't very convinced by his own argument.

Loren shook his head
again.  "You've seen what the Primans are all about.  There was a
leadership change a few months back; I don't know how closely you've been able
to monitor them, but they've become more aggressive, much less tolerant under
their new Commander.  Their old party line was always that we needed to accept
our place as their subjects and fall into place, otherwise they'd make us do it
anyway.  There are a couple planets that did go that route, actually." 
Renner's raised eyebrows showed that he hadn't been privy to that information,
so Loren elaborated.  "They openly surrendered and the Primans began
administering their planets.  It was pretty low-key at first; they set up
political and religious indoctrination programs to teach everyone how the
Primans altered everyone's evolutionary paths and made them what they are,
which to a degree is true, I admit.  But it went farther than that.  They
didn't just put up a sign that said 'Under New Management'.  Pretty soon they were
relocating everyone, pushing them onto reservations.  They began using the
people as cheap labor, building things the Primans needed, staffing their
facilities; basically using them as conscripted labor.  And when that was taken
care of, they started shipping the locals offworld."

"To
where?" Renner asked, his voice just a whisper.

"The Primans
don't care; just as long as it's not the planet they came from," Loren
finished.  "You know what they did to the Enkarran Empire, right?"

"The broad
strokes.  Just what you described; they stuffed them all onto ships and sent
them packing.  It seemed too wild to be true.  How do you just displace an
entire planet's population?"

"Well, the
Primans had a lot of practice," Loren said darkly.  "That's what
everyone in the galaxy did to them a thousand years ago when they were
defeated.  The Primans were forced to build immense ships, and when they were
done every last Priman was shoved aboard and sent into exile out beyond the
edge of the galaxy.  Now, it's payback time; it's what they're doing to every
world they take.  According to our estimates, they've already completely
evacuated a quarter of the Enkarran Empire's planets.  They forced the
Enkarrans to build massive ships, sometimes cobbling together a dozen or more
smaller vessels into one larger one.  Then they just sent them away.  We've had
reports of a couple Enkarran ships trying to colonize some unclaimed planets
coreward in the galaxy, but those were the lucky ones.  Most of the evac ships
could barely stay intact, much less use a hyperdrive.  At the rate things are
going, every last Enkarran world will be completely taken over by Primans
within two years.  And by the same token, there will be hundreds of millions of
Enkarrans floating around in the dark, looking for a new place to live, or at
least a place to set down before their ships fall apart."

They sat in silence
as Loren took a slow, thoughtful sip of his brew.  Renner's own drink was long
since forgotten.  He'd known that his people didn't have many options, but
Loren was making it sound like they didn't have
any
options.  The door
to the bar swung open as someone pushed it too hard, and it hit the doorstop
with a rattle and bang that made Renner jump in his seat.  He just stared at
the dark, shiny wood of the bar's surface as the bartender ran a damp cloth
over its length before walking down to the end to see to his new customer.

"So,"
Renner began, unable to make eye contact with Loren and instead catching his
image in the mirror behind the bar, "you're saying when they come, they're
not going to negotiate; they're going to take down our defenses, boot us all
into one area and from there toss us off the planet and into deep space to fend
for ourselves."

"Based on what
I've seen so far," Loren replied quietly, "that seems like the most
likely outcome."

"What if we
have something to offer them?" Renner asked hopefully.  "You know
about our exports; advanced reconfigurable circuits and processors.   We've
even started testing a prototype that should be able to neutralize their sensor
jamming abilities.  Maybe if they think we can keep making that for
them..."  His voice trailed off.  He knew he was grasping at straws, but
he had to try something.

"I just don't
know," Loren replied.  "They're good at technology, probably better
than us in many fields.  If they knew you had that sort of tech, I couldn't say
if they'd want you to help them develop it or they'd just take what you had and
send you packing."

"So what,
then?" Renner asked.  "What can I tell my superiors in the way of
solutions?"  The man seemed exasperated, but Loren didn't see how any
other emotion would be expected.

"Right now,
we've got our ships on an extended layover here. We should train together as a
fighting force.  As for long term solutions, the best I was told was that we
could probably offer some lift capacity to get people and important materiel
off-planet.  I'm sorry there isn't more we can do, but we've been busy just
keeping up with them."

Renner just nodded,
lost in thought as he shifted on his barstool.  Finally, he stood up and placed
his credit chip on the bar's surface in front of him, putting his  thumbprint
on the little area that lit up next to the card.  The bill paid for, he turned
to Loren.

"Well," he
began, "our superiors should be done with their luncheon and photo op. 
We'll have time for a debriefing before the diplomatic dinner tonight, so it's
time for us to head to the Governor's mansion and report.  Tomorrow we'll meet
again when you arrive so we can talk more."

Loren got up and
indicated Renner could lead the way.  They left the bar in silence, and spent
the drive to the Governor's residence the same way.  Loren realized it was
going to be a long night for his Lemurian counterpart.

Loren walked through
the corridors of Avenger on his way to Cory's quarters.  After the dinner on
the way to their transport back to the ship, he'd received word that the
Lemurian military was eager to get in some wargames and joint training
exercises, so Captain Elco had told him to get Avenger's air wing in the game
ASAP.  Elco had also admitted that the Lemurians had quietly asked more about
the evac transports Loren had mentioned.  The planet, as an independent, had a
relatively small population of less than five million.  Many corporations,
transportation companies and wealthy individuals had their own deep-space
capable ships.  Elco had told Loren that Confed could spare twenty short range
heavy-lift utility transports of the Stalwart class.  They were older and had
been replaced by a newer model, but like most militaries the galaxy over,
Confed was loathe to just break them up, and instead had mothballed them as
part of their reserves.  Now, after a quick refurbishing, the entire class was
back in service hauling military and civilian loads all over the
Confederation. 

The major benefit to
the Stalwart class was that they could land right on the surface of a planet;
no shuttles were needed to load them up, so the process of embarkation was
fairly quick.  Loren knew sending them was a desperation move, but it was the
only help Confed could offer for now.