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Chirakis

Part One
Strategic Recall

Strategic Recall

Part One

 

As soon as the Peregrine fighter Drakkor slipped into warp, Sky Harbor Aegis was a distant memory, left behind as one more mission ticked off the schedule. Cdr Chirakis was only somewhat disturbed that she couldn't count it as a mission accomplished. Aegis was as ongoing as it got, but she was finished and ready to move on. Still, over two years, she'd gained a few valuable personal allies and several strategic bits of information.

 

The shipyard loomed on her sensors and she dropped from warp for a quick check. One intriguing idea that had come across her desk was a proposal for a Romulan-Federation starship. Joint allied ship design showed promise, especially for those living on the edge, but a mind-boggling maze of political and military channels had trapped it, no doubt holding it hostage for their own purposes. Still, the TALIS drones had negotiated that gauntlet and emerged mostly unscathed, so there was hope for the joint design.

 

The shipyard faded to a long-range sensor blip and Drakkor initiated a pre-programmed series of maneuvers that would take the former station XO on a circuitous route to SFIntel's SpecOpsFOB in the Pekal system, her new base of operations. Kirel settled in to begin an extensive review of tactical charts and briefings that would bring her up to speed on the latest operation before arrival.

 

=/\=

 

 

Twenty-six hours out, and with a smooth ride, she took the chance to rest, to gather her thoughts. Sometimes it proved relaxing, but often - in that peaceful, relaxing moment before sleep - bits and pieces she'd noticed in passing suddenly processed.

 

Too many ships. Too much not-so-random traffic. Too much chatter - clipped, direct, outside shipping lanes, all in one particular area. Subspace messages that sounded like....

 

On a gut feeling she blinked away the cobwebs and dropped from warp. Not far from her location several rogue asteroids huddled in too regular a pattern. Not rogue. More like bulwarks meant for defense. Or stealth. Just beyond them, a planetoid demanded her attention.

 

No ships within several light years. Passive scans show fairly recent heavy weapons fire. Evidence of occupation, biological readings, but few life signs....

=/\=

 

 

A short trek from Drakkor's landing point found the Intel officer standing on the rim of an immense crater that spoke of bombardment well into obliteration. Heeding Drakkor's warning, Kirel had engaged full EVA mode in her flight suit. Now she knew why.

 

Little remained in what had previously been a fertile area of the unnamed, uninhabited Class L planetoid between Gemulon V and the farthest reaches of the Tzenkethi Coalition. From orbit, evidence of attack was obvious. Standing on the rim of the crater, the full force of destruction was nearly overwhelming. A few exterior walls still stood beyond the crater's rim, remnants of a recent settlement, probably the outskirts of the colony. Unless the inhabitants had fled, they'd been vaporized along with everything else.

 

The commander paused, taking a 360 reading to get her bearings, then gazed into the crater's depths. No mere bombardment. Not defensive. Not for profit. Whoever... or whatever... did this meant to leave no trace, nothing to say who or why. Swearing by everything she knew, Kirel slaved her helmet's visual recorder to Drakkor's heftier data system and began a careful descent.

 

An eerie half-light of the planetoid's winter cycle glanced off the crater's walls in a strange disbursal pattern, splaying funereal beacons into the atmosphere. The wall's fine talus, like highly polished ball bearings, spun and scattered with her first step, sliding her down the slope until a tenuous handhold helped her regain her balance. After several such episodes she finally stretched her arms to the side and dug her fingers into the unruly surface enough to allow a controlled slide to more solid ground on the crater floor.

 

A thick toxic haze hung just above the surface. It swirled with every step and hovered over implosion mounds, diffusing the winter's half-light to add a ghastly dimension to the scene. Kirel could just as easily have been standing in the crater of a volcano, but she wasn't and the thought made her shudder. She stooped every few hundred meters to gather samples, inserting the self-sealing cylinders into their assigned compartments in her flight vest.

 

Exiting the crater wasn't nearly as easy as sliding in. Having left her portable thrusters on the ship, it was over an hour before Chirakis hauled her body over the rim. As she paused to clear her filters and call the Drakkor to her position, a glint in the distance drew her across the blast zone to the edge of what once had been a lush forest.

 

Among the flattened, splintered trees and charred undergrowth lay one who was not fortunate enough to die immediately. His eyes were frozen wide in the terror of knowing his fate, and one arm of his contorted body reached in desperation towards... another body, hidden by debris. Kirel engaged her helmet scanner and focused into the devastated forest. Farther in lay several more... and more in the distance. Hundreds. All male. She dropped her gaze to focus on the victim at her feet. Along his left arm, when pulled from beneath debris that partially sheltered it from the explosion, Kirel recognized the unmistakable tribal markings of the Tjurakh.

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