Duric: A Science Fiction Romance

Chapter 1

Duric

Stars streak past our hull, stretched into thin, nigh infinite lines by our faster than light travel. I stare out the window, my reflection translucent in the viewing port as my crew chats in the background. I appear much as any other Vakutan warrior. Just under seven feet tall, alabaster skin and robust, with ridges on my face and shoulders. The ridges are a carry over from before our enslavement by the Shorcu. Our scientists are uncertain what species or group of species are our progenitors, only that our genetic make up has been so profoundly altered as to be utterly arcane.

 Everyone is at ease, because we’re on our way to the human dominated world of Titanus Vox. With how much heavy weaponry the Interstellar Human Conglomerate has managed to stockpile on that world, the threat posed by the Coalition in this sector is limited. Thus no one feels that we have to be on high alert.

I consider their lackadaisical attitude. Perhaps I should run some drills, shock them out of their complacency? But that seems like overkill for what amounts to a glorified supply run. The only difference is that instead of supplies or weapons, I’m transporting personnel.

Commander—I mean, Captain—Yaal’s ship, the Dauntless, has been fully repaired. However, the ship has suffered a recent exodus of crew, many of them reassigned to Syfer station. That leaves a dearth of qualified Alliance officers, a void which my duty is to fill.

To that end I’ve been given command of a Buzzard, a lightly armed but speedy transport shuttle. The Trident Alliance doesn’t bother giving names to shuttle craft, so I don’t have anything pretentious to write in my logs.

Were I an Alzhon or Pi’Rell, this might bother me, but as a Vakutan I now that the way a warrior distinguishes themselves has nothing to do with how prestigious a name the craft they command possesses. Real distinction comes from honorable acts, or valor on the battle field, or the most noble pursuit of all—killing Shorcu wherever one finds them.

So I don’t reprimand my crew, deciding to allow them their leisure. It will be Captain Yaal’s duty to whip them into shape, not mine. I continue to stare out the window, watching as the light of the distended stars winds past.

Abruptly, the stars return to their normal pinpoint configuration. The superluminal engine ceases its heavy thrum as we drop velocity into the ‘normal’ parameters of physics. Now there’s nothing to do but cruise at sub light speed until we reach IHC space.

“Commander Duric.”

I can’t restrain a subtle growl as I pull myself from my seat and  head toward the cockpit. The Pi’rell pilot and co-pilot are fiddling with their instruments, the bright lights of their consoles reflecting off of bald and shiny heads. I glance at their read out and note that we have picked up another vessel on our sensors.

“Report.”

The pilot doesn’t turn to face me when he speaks, which I don’t take offense to. Rather the man puts his effort into keeping us from flying into a micro meteorite field or black hole.

“Commander, we’ve picked up another ship on short range sensors.”

“I can see that, Yeoman. It’s probably the IHC freighter we were told to expect.”

“Yes, Commander, but there’s another ship in their vicinity.”

“What?” I still don’t grow alarmed. After all, this close to an IHC outpost there’s bound to be other space lane traffic. “Put it on screen.”

The vessels are too far away for a direct visual connection, but the HUD display is detailed enough for our purposes. My eyes narrow as I recognize the energy signature of the second, unnamed vessel. It’s a small Odex assault ship, designed for blitzkrieg style boarding assaults. I recognize an attack vector when I see one, and sure enough our sensors pick up a massive plasma discharge that can only be weapons fire.

“They’re under attack, sir.”

“No shit, Yeoman. By a Coalition vessel.”

“What are your orders, Commander? Should we plan a safer route around their battle?”

“Negative, Yeoman. Keep us on course.”

“Sir?”

He turns his head toward me at last. It’s hard to gauge the age of a Pi’rell, with their soft baby skin, but I think this one is quite young. Maybe I should have given the crew roster more than a mere cursory glance. His wide eyes are full of fear, but I choose not to take offense to this.

“Keep us on course, Yeoman. Maximum sub light speed, and arm our photon array.”

“But—but that’s suicide! Our weaponry will barely scratch their  hull, but one direct hit from them will—“

“Utterly annihilate our Buzzard. I am aware of starship schematics and capabilities, Yeoman. Are you going to carry out my orders or do I need to assign someone else to that seat?”

“Locking in course for embattled IHC vessel, Commander.” His voice indicates that he can’t believe what he’s saying. “Photon array primed and ready.”

I turn around and head into the cabin. The crew knows something is up, but not what nature it has taken. I take them in with my gaze, making sure each and every one of them makes eye contact with me before I speak.

“Warriors. One of our IHC ally’s ships is in danger. We are moving to assist. I suggest you put on your crash webbing and prepare for some…disturbances.”

I finish my speech with a fierce, toothy smile, letting them see my confidence. Vakutan have over seventy teeth, so when we smile it’s quite a sight to behold. The truth is, I don’t know if we will survive the upcoming battle or not, but I do know we must join the fight none the less.

We vector in on the battle. I take up my seat behind the pilots, bringing up my gunnery console. It’s half the size of the one I used to work on the bridge of an Alliance battle cruiser, and far less complicated, but the lack of armament does send a bit of worry through my belly. 

Our buzzard has a photon array arranged on two flanges, or ‘wings’ on either side of our hull. They aren’t capable of producing the kind of energy output a plasma cannon can, but they make up in fire rate what they lack in power. By my estimates we will need to score seventy direct hits in order to do significant damage to the Odex ship. That means I need to hit three separate barrages with perfect accuracy, a daunting task in an outer space battle where any direction is a good direction to evade.

By contrast, the enemy vessel has one plasma array and a separate disruptor cannon which is designed to disable enemy ships while leaving them intact enough to utilize the Odex’s favorite tactic—boarding. One clean hit from their disruptor will render our buzzard inert.

One hit from their plasma cannon will scatter our atoms to the solar winds.

It’s a risky proposition, but Vakutan are not afraid of risk. We embrace risk the way that the other races embrace leisure or their ‘feelings.’ While I could reassure my crew like a Pi’Rell or Alzhon commander might, I choose not to do so. Better, I think, that they learn just what they are made of in the crucible of conflict.

Then I see the battle. The human freighter is a big, bulky rectangular block of a ship, poorly designed from a maneuverability perspective but capable of hauling a great deal of cargo. It is equipped with weapons, but it appears the Odex’s initial assault took out their targeting systems, leaving them to attempt nothing but ‘dummy fire’ offense. The freighter is listing badly to starboard and is leaking a long, greenish gold trail of exhaust from their severely damaged hull.

Meanwhile the Odex cruiser is coming about for another pass. It doesn’t look as if they intend to board the human vessel, from the way their plasma array is charging up. I doubt the freighter can take much more punishment than it already has.

Dutifully following protocol, my Pi’rell pilot moves our buzzard to avoid the vented exhaust. Our ship is shielded but residual radiation can be profoundly hard to pin down and decontaminate.

“Yeoman, change course to this heading.”

I punch in the vector, and I see his young shoulders tense up.

“But, Commander, that takes us right through the exhaust trail.”

“Of course it does, Yeoman. How else are we going to sneak up on the Odex?”

He closes his mouth and corrects our course. Once we enter the verdant stream, we will be all but invisible to the Odex vessel. 

Then I will attack, and the battle will become a three way dance. Despite the harsh odds, a smile peels back my lips away from my myriad teeth. Thank you, ancestors, for this chance to prove my mettle.