“Sending a Jakru craft in is a risky and foolish plan,” countered Jinquar.
“Says who?”
“I agree,” asserted Lexia. “No Jakru craft.”
“As you wish,” conceded Zaul.
“A lot of variables here. It means a lot of things could go wrong,” said Miko.
“So is life—a game of war,” Lexia murmured and she looked sombrely at the gathered ships and flurry of locust activity.
Zaul waved a hand. “Open fire on the Zikri vessels. The Zikri will think the Mentera have played them and orchestrated a treacherous attack. Jump to light speed at the first possible opportunity.”
Fenli rolled his eyes. “Let’s hope they don’t clue in to how stupid it would be for locusts to attack armed vessels superior to their force out in plain view. Other than that, it just may work.”
“It will work!” repeated Zaul. “I’ve put significant effort into masterminding the final details.”
Miko, remembering the daring audacity that the colonel had exhibited in rescuing the Empress, could not help but think that he would make it happen.
“There,” pointed Zaul. “See how those Zikri transport vehicles are coming out of light drive? That’s precisely where we will strike. It won’t look so obvious or hare-brained—Mentera attacking a weak point. The ruined Mentera station will continue to orbit Kraetoria. They will attempt repairs, rebuild their mother colony.”
Miko stirred. Other mini toruses and grid-shaped locust ships from the space colonies hovered around the main ship. A shiver ran through his spine.
Lexia’s lips twitched grimly. “I had no idea their network was so vast.”
Zaul redirected. “We attack there at the transpo-hub.” He turned. “Miko, Laren, you take the main target. Fenli, you and Vembrod and Sket and Bruus give them cover and blast any Zikri that try to interfere. That way we maximize our chances of hits. Then warp out of there at the first available instant.”
“Which transpo-hub? There’s like a dozen,” muttered Fenli.
“There, a new transhipment, hyperdrived from god knows where. Those Zikri orbs. Scanners wide,” he ordered Deral.
The holo scan revealed the box-van to hold a variety of ships and space station equipment scavenged from across the galaxy.
“Colonel, we are seeing multiple fuselages and engine parts of spacecraft of untold races—no less than a thousand.”
Zaul shook his head in amazement. “How I would like to see that shit box blown out of the sky. Our attack will initiate an appropriate trigger incident. A decisive moment in history, Ladies and Gentlemen. When we’ll witness the end of the Zikri and the Mentera.”
“With no immediate follow up attack by the Mentera,” pointed out Miko.
Fenli grunted. “It’ll look suspicious.”
“It’s a risk we have to take.”
Lexia motioned to Zaul. “I’ll go aboard the Brexon with Deral and two of your senior officers. Have a craft waiting to join me with the second wave team. I want to observe this fight at as close a range as possible, and lend aid if necessary.”
“You’ll join the fight?” asked Miko incredulously.
“If I have to. I do not hide behind my front lines. It’s not the Jakru way. That’s why I have men like Zaul here ready to die for our cause.”
Zaul straightened, inhaled a proud breath. “I highly discourage what you suggest, Empress. Yet if you insist, I will accompany you.”
* * *
The five Doraxu ships swung out of the launch bay like silent wraiths. Lexia’s Angels, they were called. The dusky globe of Kraetoria filled the lower half of space, lurking like a waiting giant below.
“Battle positions,” Laren’s voice rang through the speaker.
“Systems check.” Miko gripped the controls at the gunner’s console, flanked by Laren and Star. They sped on half impulse power toward the enemy fleet. This is it, he thought.
“Steady now,” Laren said.
“Usk, put on your translator,” advised Miko.
The locust clipped the device to his antenna, grimacing, but complying. His pincers clacked back to the nav controls.
Zaul growled. “We don’t have a lot of time here. The locusts and Zikri will detect our main fleet within seconds of your uncloaking despite the authorization codes—so act fast. Attack the sentinels and the van first. But don’t get too close to it.”
Dropping out of stealth mode, the attackers buzzed in like wasps before a wall of ships: spiked menaces, gleaming gunmetal grey and black. Orbs, massive hulks of machinery, loomed in their field of vision, with hundreds of rovers and scouts. The box-van ate up most of the viewscreen, monstrous beyond belief. Miko’s throat was dry as a desert. His heart sank when he thought of their chances.
Laren uncloaked the Doraxu just as a large Zikri scout craft, an elongated torus, swept within range. “Now!” he cried to Miko.
Miko blasted the port hull with instinctive ease, while Usk whisked them away on an escape vector. The scout burst into a ball of flame. Usk whipped them up and over the convoy’s shuttle vessels and Miko trained the cannon, shooting at each passing orb. More came in. His heart raced. His training kicked in, but he never liked full-on assault, even if the future of the human race depended on his killing spree. Unsuppressed memories of the mayhem he and Audra had stirred around the galaxy came flooding back to him in a wild rush.
Fenli whooped through his speaker as he blasted orbs as if they were ripe tomatoes. His ship swerved in and amongst attacking sentinels like a drunken firefly. Ironically, the unpredictable manoeuvres saved it from getting blasted by converging fire.
“Veer in to protect your flanks!” shouted Zaul over the com. “Eagle 2, what are you doing? Why are you spraying their destroyers?”
“Having a little fun, Colonel. Don’t get your cock in a knot,” came Fenli’s voice.
“You stupid weasel! Vembrod, what gives? Don’t get too close to those aphid lightfighters. You’ll jeopardize the mission!”
“Let him destroy the ships, Zaul,” said Lexia.
