Vargev.”
“ So this is the legendary Colonel Nikolai Vargev, you have garnered a fierce reputation amongst my people. I am Dalvosh, second in command of Krenaran forces after lord Alax. Your men have fought with honour and bravery, and have earned the respect of the Krenaran people.”
“ Err… Thank you.” Vargev replied, still waiting for them to demand his surrender.
“ Let this day mark the end of hostilities between our peoples, both sides have already lost far too much in this needless war,” Dalvosh continued, nodding his head almost reverentially at Vargev, who was dumbfounded, could this be the first peaceful Krenaran, or was it just a ploy.
“ First, have your men lower their weapons,” Vargev said. “Then we’ll talk.”
“ If we do that, your men will kill us,” Dalvosh replied.
“ My men are trained to obey my orders.”
“ As are mine.”
Both sides readied their weapons; long, tense seconds passed as Vargev eyed Dalvosh who at eight feet tall was considerably shorter and leaner than Alax, but still towered over the colonel nevertheless, who was attempting to discern any trickery in those deep red eyes of his. Dalvosh did likewise, he knew full well that Vargev was a deadly and implacable enemy of the Krenaran people and would not hesitate to kill them all, given the chance. Or that was what he had been taught.
Both commanders almost simultaneously ordered their men to lower their weapons, after a few more tense seconds both groups lowered them. The sense of mistrust between the two commanders was still thick in the air, and they continued to eye each other suspiciously.
“ What about the thousands of slaves you took during the war?” Vargev asked, remembering that horrible time at the now ruined Agemman colony.
“ As soon as an official ceasefire treaty can be drawn up, your slaves will be returned to you. The Krenaran empire no longer wants this war, it has cost us too much already with the loss of two of our greatest leaders, together with the loss of ships and troops.”
“ We can draw up an unofficial ceasefire right now, for a permanent treaty to be made official it would have to be signed on Earth in front of the E.O.C. A council, or in the presence of an elected member. However, our communications have been knocked out.”
“ Then this is what we must do,” Dalvosh said.
The remainder of both forces were assembled at the bombed out wreckage strewn remnant of the main gate. Hundreds of men and Krenarans had gathered, although the men were largely outnumbered by the lumbering Krenaran warriors.
Vargev looked up into the clouds of the early morning sky, and let out an audible sigh of relief, the war was finally coming to a close. As he continued to contemplate the sky, he could just make out the contrails of shuttles and transports descending through the clouds towards their position. His sense of relief grew rapidly as the myriad of small craft headed his way; help had finally arrived.
The few commandoes left alive and the troops of the ‘Hells angels’ all let out a great cheer, throwing their fists into the air as the shuttles landed in the debris strewn fields between the abandoned Krenaran trenches and Echo base itself, the sheer sense of jubilation from those men who had fought so hard to defend this place was palpable.
More troops, E.D. F naval personnel and Solarians disembarked the numerous craft and headed to where Vargev, Dalvosh, and the survivors were gathered.
What appeared to be a high ranking naval officer approached them flanked by a few soldiers of his own.
“ Captain Ericsson of the Tempest, I’m assuming we are here to accept the surrender of Krenaran forces in this area?”
Vargev took a long look at this ‘captain’, who the hell was he to waltz in here like this. Finally he said, “no surrender captain; peace, this Krenaran here.” He motioned towards Dalvosh, “is the new leader of the Krenaran military, he wants a ceasefire.”
“ What about the war still going on across the other colonies?”
At this Dalvosh finally spoke up in his deep, rasping voice, sounding very much like his throat had a bagful of shale tipped down it. “Not just here, everywhere. We no longer want this war, it has cost us too much already,” he repeated for the captain’s benefit.
“ Peace, well I’ll be damned, I’ve forgotten what peace feels like.” Ericsson replied with genuine surprise.
Vargev allowed himself a slight chuckle.
“ I’d better get back to the Tempest and contact E.D. F command, let them know of the situation, although my ship has taken quite a beating itself.”
The captain excused himself and made to leave the men when Vargev stopped him. “If you don’t mind me asking captain, how did you get here?”
“ It’s a long story colonel, I’ll fill you in when you get onboard.”
Aboard the damaged Liberty, Ensign Kathryn Jacobs was carefully monitoring Michael Alexander, he was still unconscious and his condition was steadily getting worse.
Commander Quinn Kinraid was stood over the captain’s bed, watching. “After all tat he’s done; all tat he has accomplished. To just give up and die now like this, is just a waste,” he whispered to the medical officer.
“ He’s a fighter; he’ll pull through. He has to.” A small tear ran down the ensigns gentle features.
He had been haemorrhaging internally and had gone into anaphylactic shock, Jacobs had brought him round, kept him alive somehow. He was losing twelve pints of blood in three minutes, and if Kathryn hadn’t operated as early as she did, he would have been dead by now.
The heart monitor continued its slow beeping, the sound thudded into their ears as the two of them silently stood over the frail form of their captain, they waited anxiously. Beep… beep…beep.
“ We have done all we can, it’s up to him now.” She whispered.
“ Keep me informed ensign,” Kinraid said as he left the small sickbay, although inside the pain he was feeling at watching his captain and friend slowly slipping away like this was tearing him apart, he had to keep some emotional distance, he was in command now, and the crew, albeit severely demoralised was counting on him.
Arriving on what remained of the shattered bridge, he touched a control on his wrist comm. “lieutenant Logameier to the bridge.”
Johnson Logameier had his head inside an access hatch of the primary power conduit of the ruined main engine, trying to affect some emergency repairs, when his wrist comm. buzzed; startling him, he bumped his head against a rather hard piece of insulation plating, cursing and rubbing his throbbing head, he answered, “on my way.”
A few minutes later and he arrived back on the bridge, walking up to Kinraid he asked, “yes commander?”
“ I need an update lieutenant, how are the repairs coming?”
“ Slowly sir, she has taken a heck of a beating, power should be restored to the main engine within the hour, although it would be several more hours or even days before we are able to use it. As for the damaged launcher, we are not going to be able to repair that until we reach Delta base, and there has been significant hull damage from the crash.”
“ Will she be able t’ make orbit?”
“ In her present condition, no commander; we’ll burn up trying.”
“ Damn,” Kinraid replied with an exasperated sigh, “how long?”
“ We’re looking at weeks, sir.”
The flicker of an idea began to form in Kinraid’s mind, “wait a bloody minute.” He whispered, more to himself than to anyone else. “We need a major base for repairs, right?”
“ Yes sir.”
“ Well, what in the name o’ god have we just bloody well crashed into?”
“ Commander, the people here are more accustomed to building military vehicles and munitions, not naval systems.”
“ T’ey are E.D. F engineers, some o’ them will have expertise repairing vessels o’ the fleet, they have a
