ALTERNATE TALES OF THE STAR FORCE

STAR BLAZERS---PELLIAS

Being the fifth part of THE RIKASHA INCIDENT--- BY: Frederick P. Kopetz

ACT ONE: THE BEGINNING OF A CLEANSING

I. GARRISON

The Beta Valentis System

Space Battleship B'eoneraze

Thursday, January 14, 2202

0704 Hours, space-time.

"Garrison duty," said Baron Anton Cha'rif as he sat in his command chair on the round bridge of his flagship, which was in orbit over Pellias. "There is nothing more, Ter'garv, that I hate more than garrison duty. I wish Ka'mok was trustworthy. He is not, so I have come here in order to ensure two things."

"That is?" asked his commander and friend.

"To ensure that Pellias is protected and to ensure that the Star Force gets in and out as quickly as possible…and that no one else gets in."

"When do you intend to let the garrison that we landed know that, sir?"

"At the last possible minute."

"Baron Cha'rif," said a voice over the bridge speakers. Cha'rif nodded to the comm officer on his left, who flicked some switches. A bearded man appeared on the flagship's viewscreen.

"Razov, how goes it?" asked Cha'rif.

"Fine, m'lord," said Hirgen Razov. "We didn't have to kill too many of them."

"I told you, I wanted people stunned, not killed," snapped Cha'rif, slapping a hand against the black-cushioned arm of his command seat for emphasis.

"They got some of us from ambush from these ruined buildings," said Razov while he picked some dirt off his dark blue battle armor. Behind him were the ruins of the Pellian capital. Cha'rif noted with unease that some of the once-ornate buildings looked intact. "Other buildings are still holding together, Ekogaru knows how. Half of this place is a snipers' nest. But, the Rikashan flag's been planted, and the requisite demands for surrender have been made by some minor R'jkharrazim in the native language, which isn't too much unlike ours, oddly enough."

"Have they listened to the surrender demands and promises of asylum I ordered placed within them? My senses and the sensors read only nine hundred people alive on the planet, with the vast majority in that city. I want people evacuated, not enslaved," said Cha'rif. "I want the Star Force to get in there, speak with that woman, and then get out of our affairs. This planet's about to explode; it's dangerous, and I want that woman brought to us so we can surrender her up to Ekogaru."

"Oh? You want to sacrifice her?"

"No. I want her physically delivered to the Warbringer, alive…and humanely. Marda said there was a way to do it, and the more I think upon this the more I believe her, even if she is a witch. I have reflected, good…let them all have asylum save her. If we deliver her, Marda will be happy, Ekogaru will be happy, and then the priesthood can get out of administering these far territories and leave them to decent folk like ourselves. "

"I like the sound of that," smiled Razov. Some yells went up behind him, and he glanced back over his shoulder. Two of his troops were dragging a struggling young woman out of a house by the wrists. She wore the remains of a ragged dress, and was dirty and barefoot. "What's going on?" he barked.

"Sir," said one of the troops. "We're attempting to rescue her."

"If you are, see to it she's decently covered, you idiot," snapped Razov.

"Sir, you sure of that?" said the other. "She is pretty cute." Both lower-ranking men laughed, and then stopped when they saw their commander glaring at them. "Sir…stop it?" asked one of the men.

Razov nodded. Then, the men heard Cha'rif on the portable comm unit Razov had in his hand, and he said, "Razov, see to it."

Both men dropped the girl and saluted. The young lady then picked up a large rock, smashed a trooper in the foot with it, and ran off before anyone could react.

"The way that your men are acting, no wonder they're fighting us," growled Cha'rif. "You are to see to it that discipline is maintained down there, or all I shall see to it myself."

"Uh…of course, Baron," said Razov. "You two---you get fatigue duty for the next day! Got it?"

Cha'rif cut the transmission off. "I am disgusted," he said out loud. "Disgusted."

"Sir, a fleet has just warped in…from starboard," said an officer. "The fleet is unidentified."

"Battle stations," said Cha'rif as he picked up his hand mike. "All hands, come to battle stations!"

"Ter'garv, see to it that fleet is hailed," said Cha'rif over the sound of the weird, wailing klaxon.

"Yessir," he said as the lighting on the bridge snapped from its usual greenish tinge to a reddish tinge, indicating action stations. "Usual requests?"

Cha'rif nodded.

Before the communication could go out, though, the comm officer said, "Sir! Incoming communication from the enemy fleet! Audio only…video on multiplex-sharanda status-waiting to come up. Shall I put on the audio? It seems like stage management."

"What do you mean by stage-management?" asked Cha'rif as the radar officer barked out, "Sir, the enemy fleet consists of forty vessels, in three squadrons. The comm signal is coming from the flagship, back in the third squadron, twenty-eight hundred gerad back."

"Sir, listen." The comm officer, at his curved board, flicked a switch. Low, mocking laughter resounded around the bridge of the B'eoneraze.

Cha'rif picked up something of the mind of the owner of the laugh at that moment. "Why are you mocking me?" roared Cha'rif.

"Because the only battle that counts is the last one," said a distinctive voice filled with its own mocking music. "And that's what this will be…your last."

Cha'rif was about to yell "Who are you?" but the video image that suddenly came up answered that question for him. A youngish, somewhat amused face with blue skin and blond hair appeared on the B'eoneraze's main screen. Its owner wore a grey uniform and red-lined black cape and stood on a spacecraft bridge that seemed to be trimmed with shiny brass panels and consoles.

"My name is Desslok, Leader of the Gamilons," said the pleasant voice. "It is most unfortunate that you believe you have claimed Pellias, since Gamilon now claims that planet."

"How do you know we have claimed this world?" demanded Cha'rif. "And, pray tell, haven't I heard that your planet and culture were destroyed?"

Desslok's eyes flashed. "Gamilon still exists, enemy commander! You are about to feel her wrath…unless you withdraw, that is."

"I, Baron Anton Cha'rif, do not take arrogant men like you well," smiled Cha'rif. "Be prepared to learn a deep spiritual lesson in the meaning of humility, you vagabond leader of a dying people."

"No, it is you who shall learn the meaning of humility," replied Desslok. Beside him, Talan glanced over, holding up a brazen handgrip with a long cable running from it with a questioning look in his eyes. Desslok nodded, extending his hand. Talan then handed his leader the handgrip.

Desslok looked out through the sweeping windows of his flagship. Good. The precision bombers are all in place, he thought as he saw three squadrons sweeping out into space before the bow of the Gamilstadt. They are all in the optimal position now. Now, I shall begin to put an end to this charade. Gods willing, by the time the Star Force gets here, there shall be no more battle to fight…because I will have finished this.

"Cha'rif, the lesson begins now," said Desslok. "I wish you a quick and painless end."

Desslok pushed the button just as the transmission ended.

Immediately, a sweeping field of energy roared out in front of the Gamilstadt from the twin transducer units at each side of the muzzle of the ship's Desslok Cannon. With a flash of light, the three squadrons disappeared….

…and then reappeared at once over the Rikashan fleet in chaotic flashes of light like evil fireflies. Before the Rikashans could react, the Gamilon precision bombers were already dive-bombing the fleet at full speed.

"Sir!" said a Rikashan commander over the comm circuit. "This is the cruiser Virshanda! They've gotten two of our main turrets!"

"This is the destroyer Vil'kenda," snapped another voice a moment later from the bridge of his burning black ship. "Direct hit on the bridge, and the engine room was hit! AAAARRRGGHHH!" yelled a Rikashan voice as the destroyer blew up, with the Gamilon pilots expertly dodging the flaming wreckage as they began to pick apart another cruiser.

On the bridge of his flagship, Cha'rif himself was driven to his knees as the battleship shook under him. Ter'garv pointed out the bridge windows in terror as a Gamilon plane, already hit and smoking thanks to the B'eoneraze's effective point defense fire, continued its death dive right into one of the battleship's turrets.

Soon, the B'eoneraze had something in common with the Argo's previous contacts with the Gamilons…thanks to effective Gamilon fire, the Rikashan battleship was smoking in four places.

"Report!" yelled Cha'rif as he got up and grabbed Ter'garv by the front of his uniform.

Cha'rif looked out the window…he stood in shock as two destroyers…a heavy cruiser, and one of his battleships went up in balls of flame.

"Sir…if you'd let me check," said Ter'garv. Cha'rif nodded and let his assistant run over to the comm console. He grabbed a headset away and stood in shock. "No. NO! Sir…ten ships lost…and your inferior brothers are reporting that they can't psionicially attack the Gamilons. They say there's a power from the planet stopping them."

Cha'rif shut his eyes, and, in his mind's eye, he saw a young blond girl in her bed, clutching the covers against her body but smiling as she blocked his power with closed eyes.

"Aliscea," he hissed. "I want you alive…but you're too much of a threat to take alive. Get me Razov…I want her captured tonight…before the Star Force can get to her."

"But you're breaking the bargain you made with them," said Ter'garv.

"I've no choice, not with….them warping ships in like that," said Cha'rif as a squadron of torpedo bombers SMITE'd into existence among his fleet, which was now in chaos. Over the speakers, a report came in that a Gamilon destroyer, and then another, had just appeared among the fleet. Both ships were wreaking havoc. Cha'rif got up, bracing himself as the recoil shock of the B'eoneraze's forward turret rang through the ship as it fired at the destroyer, which evaded the shot. Nearby, one of his destroyers got a Gamilon destroyer, but another one warped in and blew it to bits…along with one of its mates.

"Sir, twelve ships lost…and the main part of the enemy fleet is withdrawing; they've warped out," said Ter'garv.

"Hit and run…that's effective," said Cha'rif. "That Desslok…he's more cunning than I thought. What's in front of us?"

Not far away, Cha'rif spotted another wave of planes coming in, opposed by only a few bat-winged Rikashan fighters in black and tan.

"Lord, they seem to be coming from two carriers, which are off in front of us, at 10,000." said a tactical officer as he came before Cha'rif and saluted. "Should we engage the carriers?"

"Which carrier is leading the attack?" asked Cha'rif.

"A green one, with three decks," said a young officer.

"Ter'garv, I have an idea," smiled Cha'rif.

"Which is?"

"Why don’t I throw some chaos into their ranks? Prepare to warp our ship…let the rest of the fleet fight off the Gamilons…no, better yet, call back Ka'mok…yes…he can do this better than I can…let him take the damage. Order our fleet to warp out, save for us. We can take care of that carrier our own way before we warp out."

"You want it destroyed?"

"No…captured. I want to see what makes these Gamilons tick."

 "Leader Desslok, why did we withdraw and leave this to Kelzart?" asked Talan.

"I'm leaving the softening-up phase of this battle to Kelzart. I trust that he's confident enough, Talan. He fought well at Geda Prime three years ago as support for Lysis before I sent him after the Star Force. I'm sure you recall that battle, Talan?"

"Yessir…I was there, commanding a battleship squadron, sir. that was before we had finished the Earth Fleet at Pluto…Ganz from Miralden was planning that offensive then."

"If only Ganz had been more effective…" mused Desslok. "Perhaps some things were meant to be. But, at any rate, I am here, and I shall strike the last blow. We are now sixteen away from the Rikashan Fleet?"

"Yes…we are."

"At a pre-arranged signal, Talan, Kelzart shall withdraw. Then I shall finish this off. Bring up the Desslok gun!"

"Bring up the Desslok gun!" repeated a lower-ranking officer.

"At last…this shall end," smiled Desslok as the bronzed control stand came up. "At my word, begin transferring power! The target is the enemy fleet!"

The procedures began as Desslok smiled and stood in silence.

At last, he thought, this infection shall be wiped out…at its source. Then, we can begin investigating Pellias unimpeded by their forces.

TO BE CONTINUED WITH ACT TWO: "Kelzart"
 
 

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