Desperation Book I of the Triumvirate Chronicles

By Alexander Dundass

Desperation has set in for the Territories of the Twenty. After more than a century at war with the Hegemony, they have suffered two catastrophic defeats: the loss of their main uranium source for their warships and their failure in destroying the Hegemony's main base.
In desperation, Admiral William Savage takes a third of the fleet to parts of the galaxy unknown to the Territories. Arriving in Lonsation space, Savage finds it has been taken over by the Hegemony and in order to take advantage of their uranium supplies, he must free Lonsatia. But do so, he may have to reveal his cybernetic powers as he battles his cyborg brothers exiled long ago for attempting to take over the galaxy.
The missing fleet does not go unnoticed by the Hegemony, and plans are made to invade the capital of the Territories of the Twenty, Veloxora, while part of its defending fleet is missing.
Will Admiral Savage be able to save the Lonsation Colonies, and will there be a home for him to return to at Veloxora?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Dec 4, 2013
• ISBN: 9781304655400

Book preview

Desperation Book I of the Triumvirate Chronicles

Desperation

The Triumvirate Chronicles

Book I

By

Alexander Dundass

Other Works by the Author

The Triumvirate Chronicles

Book I: Desperation

Conquest and Liberation (coming soon)

Book II: Triumvirate (coming soon)

Anthology of the Guardians

Genesis

Huntercats (coming soon)

Author Website: www.alexanderdundass.ca

Author Blog: www.alexanderdundass.blogspot.com

Copyright © Alexander Dundass, 2014

Foreword

It has now been around 15 years since I started writing this book series, not long after I wrote my first book, my Master’s thesis.  Finally convinced I could write something more than 2000 words, I embarked upon writing my first science fiction novel, and it was one hell of a ride.  Little did I know when starting that the book would ultimately come in at 200 000 words and somewhere around 500 pages.  But what was most important was quite simply I was, after many years, getting my ideas down on a computer screen.  This ultimately led to the second book, with the third well planned, but somewhere I knew I was missing something, so had to go back and write another book, this one you are about to read, to go chronologically before my first ever written novel.

I honestly had no idea how big (or how many books or series for that matter) my universe was to become, or the true extent of the story I chose to tackle.  To say the least, ideas and characters evolved to the point that often I was surprised by the outcomes.  One thing that always I always kept in mind from one of my favorite authors was how he created an entire universe with only humans.  Initially it looks like this is the case in my creation, but let me assure you it isn’t.    You just have to be patient.

Initially the entire series was set to be just about the war in the coming pages, but as I came to develop characters, which for me involves writing short stories about them, I knew that I’d tapped into a huge expanse of time.  As it stands, the complete story covers a timeline of over one million years, many series and story lines, leaving room for a few friends to actually write within my story their own, based on my own universe.

I have many inspirations for my writings, authors such as Paul O. Williams, who wrote the Pelbar Cycle, Isaac Asimov, for the Robot, Galactic Empire and Foundation Series, Stephen King fits in with the Dark Tower Series, one I followed for twenty years until its conclusion, and I still hope that he writes more to it, and others whose plots take me by surprise.  I often take history as best as I can and put a twist on it to work into my stories, for instance, looking at Kublai Kahn in Duality, Book 3, or even writing a short situated mainly in Atlantis, to even including Sasquatch in a story (OK that one may not see the light of day, provided I can even find the copy).  My adventure in to creative writing was one of keeping the balance in my brain happy:  working in a chemistry lab all day doing science leaves my creative side, for the most part, quite hungry.  One thing I inadvertently did was blur the edges between good and evil; in Desperation you will find outright evil, but you may also find some of the good guys really in the end are not any better than the bad guys.  A fault of mine I guess.

Alas I blabber on too much, so I hope you enjoy Book 1 of 7, Desperation, of what I have called the Triumvirate Chronicles. 

Alexander Dundass, October 2013

Dedication

I wish to dedicate this book to all my friends who over the years have patiently read, edited and offered their opinions, good and bad, but all constructive, you know who you are.  I also dedicate this to my pets over the years who have helped in my late nights to provide distraction when chasing an idea, mainly my rabbits (I think we’re on # 10 right now for evil bunnies) and my now ancient cat, who is only 2 years older than the first stuff I ever wrote.   And finally my wife, who was unsure of my venture into writing, who after reading a copy of my thesis, just about had to be committed.

Prologue

The prisoners marched down the hallway escorted by their captors, the cuffs around their wrists and feet generating an energy dampening field.  This prevented the immortal prisoners from absorbing energy and using their powers against their captors.

Move it along, growled one of the men, this one distinguished with dark hair and an equally black curled mustache.

Fuck you Preacher, replied one of the prisoners. This man had features Similar to Preacher, including the same jet black hair, but was a good deal taller.

Your capture cost us a lot, Canes, Preacher continued.  "Many of us are now dead; and the galaxy no longer trusts us.  All of this, because you want to rule everything, and you think you can do it better than those already ruling it. Why is it that you think you can do it better than anyone else?"

You animal fucker, do you think we won’t fight back?  Don’t you realize I still have people out there?  They will fight to the end.

No you don’t Canes, Preacher snorted. We finished them off at Welverin.  Remi is there cleaning up your mess, and your labs.  Your mutated warriors, your friends, allies and even their families, are dead.  Stryker’s teams cleaned up rather nicely.  Now is judgment time for you.  I wouldn’t expect that you’ll be alive for much longer.

Preacher looked ahead, unsmilingly, as the corridor passed by under the dim lighting.  The walls themselves were just gray concrete, the facility located in a bunker deep within a moon around the planet Acronia.

Moments later, they entered a room that was just as dark and dank as the corridor, with the same concrete walls.  At one end of the room was a brown table, and seated behind it were five immortals, representatives of those that had fought against Canes and his minions.

The five prisoners and their escort entered the room and with a harsh wave of Preacher’s hand, they fell to their knees.  Wolf, his ebony skin still bandaged over many points of his body, cursed, while Vega, a greasy-haired, and rather slimy-looking Caucasian, smiled like an idiot.  The other two, named Lons and Skardo, remained silent, which worried Preacher.

A lithe woman with blond hair came up to him, her eyes full of concern.  You won’t be happy with the verdict, Athena proclaimed.  The Alliance already walked away.  Both Turtron and Vruta are steaming mad.

Another man, with long white hair and eyes of faded blue, was seated in the middle of the five individuals at the table. As they approached, he got up from his chair.  All will be silent now.  The Council will announce the verdict, and it isn’t a unanimous verdict.  The man paused, looking at each of the prisoners in turn, and then sat down again.  I, Grand Master Falcone, hereby pass judgment on the five of you, all of your cohorts, allies and any others allied with you. This includes the mortals that you used against the rest of us.  You are all found guilty of crimes against the Empire, and are hereby exiled to leave this galaxy forever.  If you ever set foot in this galaxy again, you are to be executed immediately.  Yourselves, as well as all your followers, are to be put into suspended animation for the trip to your new home.

What the fuck Falcone? Preacher spat, pulling his sword out and holding it at Canes throat.

That’s it Preacher, go ahead, you know you want to, taunted Canes.

Larissa, how can you, of all people, let these scum live? Preacher declared, pointing at a woman with long red hair and white battle armor emblazoned with birds of prey.  His sword pushed into Canes’ neck, causing a small droplet of blood to run down his collar.  You know they deserve death, and you bloody well know they’ll be back!

Go ahead, kill me Preacher. Canes projected into his mind, If you don’t, you know I’ll just come back and kill all of you.  Not today or tomorrow, but some day. Preacher pulled his sword back, and swung, aiming for Canes’ neck, but his blade hit another.  Surprised, he looked up at Athena, who had tears in her eyes.

Be quiet Preacher, demanded Stryker: a bald, muscle bound man sitting next to Falcone.  We discussed this, and this is what we feel to be the best solution for everyone involved.  When you took on the mission to bring them to justice, you agreed to accept our judgment on them.

You call this justice? Preacher scoffed, letting his sword drop away from Athena’s.  "Or do you really mean that this is the best way that you won’t get blood on your hands?  Do I need to remind all of you what it cost to track these guys down and capture them?  The price we all paid?  Not only did we lose our friends, we lost entire worlds, and the security of the Empire.  Not only that, we still have several Guardian hunting squads out there.  You are all fools if you don’t execute these five."

And that is why we must set the example of mercy, Larissa stated, a sadness in her voice. 

Is it mercy or stupidity? Preacher spat back at Larissa.

The judgment is decided and the tribunal’s will is to be carried out, with our without your aid, Falcone said with conviction, indicating no argument would sway the Council.

The tribunal remained in silence as other Guardians came into the room and led the prisoners away.  You mark my words, we will pay for this, and this is a mistake.  Don’t you ever forget it Falcone.  They’ll come back and we’ll have to face them again.  And next time, the price is going to be a hell of a lot steeper.

70,000 Years Later

The battle was fierce, and the navy of the Territories of the Twenty was losing after two days of fighting to save the Dubrilla star system.  This system was important to the Territories in that it was the major source of uranium used in the fuel rods of their naval ships.  To lose this star system could spell certain disaster, as well as bringing a quick and unpleasant end to the century long war.

The Territories’ enemy, known as the Hegemony, had come from another galaxy about one hundred thirty years ago, not long after treaties had been signed that ended the previous Conflicts, and gave birth to new  alliances that became the Territories of the Twenty.  The Twenty referred to the original kingdoms and empires that had forged an alliance at the end of that lengthy, earlier war.  When the Hegemony made their move, they struck hard and fast; and within the first month, they had captured a tenth of the fledgling union.  To date, the Territories had been on the defensive for over a century, and Fleets Admiral Grooben knew that their side’s eventual loss was probably inevitable.

What in the hell is the status on the fleet?!! he yelled across at his first officer at the weapons console.  How much fight have we got left in us?!!  Grooben turned his hefty frame around in his chair to face the middle-aged first officer.  Grooben, his white hair splashed with sweat, was in a panic.  Two days ago his and Lieutenant Fleets Admiral Logan’s fleets had warped in to defend the planet Dubrilla. It had come under attack from a large Hegemony navy, and once again, the battle had not ended in the Territories’ favor.

Sir, Logan’s squads are pinned over on the far flank, responded the first officer, Captain Wynette.  We can’t get to him and he can’t get to us.  They’re surrounding us and keeping us separated.  We’re trapped."

Dammit, that’s not what I want to hear.  Just what in the fuck went wrong?  When Grooben had attempted to take the offensive several hours before, the Hegemony commander had countered it and split the Territories fleet down the middle.  Despite the advanced Hegemony vessels, the Territories had survived thus far, mostly because of Lieutenant Fleets Admiral Savage’s tactics, and many felt he should be the full-bird Fleets Admiral.  But as often happens, politics served to intervene, and Grooben was appointed to lead the navy, instead.

Get me Logan, right now, growled Grooben, turning back to the screen.  Five minutes ago, orders were issued for his destroyer to move back to the edge of the battle. It would give him a chance to collect his thoughts and to stay out of the line of fire.

Sir, hostile bombers approaching the fleet.

Order our fighters to get them, and where in the hell is Logan?!

Right here sir, said Logan, as he appeared onscreen, his blond hair plastered to his soot-streaked face with a combination of sweat and blood from a gash above his right eye.  Logan was currently standing, his towering frame leaning over the chair at the navigation stations.  It was obvious to Grooben that Logan’s ship sustained a lot of damage.

They have us cut off sir, we can’t get to you, said Logan, coughing uncontrollably, no doubt due to poor air quality on his bridge.

Is there any way we can get the fleet together? Think man, think!

I don’t see how, except to push through the middle of their fleet, but that’s gonna cost us a lot, sir.  They have managed to get three deep between us and you.  They could easily hammer at each of our ships with three of theirs on the way through.

"It’s all we got Logan, and if we don’t try it, they will skewer us.  Concentrate your fire on the side of their fleet between you and us and we’ll do the same on our side here.  Once we break through, we re-form our front, go with a full assault on their lines, and smash them."

Yes sir, replied Logan with a sigh that betrayed no confidence in Grooben’s strategy whatsoever.

Logan cursed as his ship shook violently under him.  We’re never going to survive this, he said to his bridge crew.  If that fat old bastard had listened to me, we wouldn’t be in this position.  Motherfucker.

I don’t like it either, but if we don’t bash through that dividing line, we’re done for, responded Commander Balara Preston, Logan’s most senior bridge officer still alive.  Shall I give the orders?

Yes, let’s get this done, Logan said with resignation.  Alert all commands to attack on the vectors we just received.  Preston nodded, her auburn hair bouncing up and down, and her lithe form hanging onto her seat as the ship tilted beneath them. 

We could certainly use Savage here, Logan said with despair.

Yes sir, Preston replied.  At that moment, a Hegemony bomber strafed the bridge, consoles, ceiling and flooring erupting in explosions throughout the small confines of the ship’s nexus.  A new series of fires broke out on the command deck, filling the bridge with even more smoke. 

Where in the hell are our fighters? demanded Logan, patting out a small fire on his uniform trousers.

Shot down sir, we lost all of them when the Heggie ship they went after exploded, and caught them in the fireball.

Great, just fucking great!  Pull us back from the front line!  And do it fast! Logan ordered.

Sir, the Fleets Admiral is in trouble, they are concentrating fire on him and trying to surround him, reported Logan’s tactical officer.

Get out of there old man, get out of there, whispered Logan in desperation. Logan cursed as Grooben’s as vessel exploded in a sunburst, killing all aboard.

Oh shit, said Logan, as he fell heavily into his lopsided command chair, his sudden field promotion a crushing weight upon his shoulders.

Chapter 1

Historian’s Note:  Lieutenant Fleets Admiral Savage, second in command for most of the war, sometimes taught at the naval academy. He was teaching a class in advanced strategy when he first heard about the death of Grooben.  Not one to accept defeat in what could be the largest loss to the Hegemony since Migor II, he dashed off to save the fleet. However, even his Guardian powers could not prevent the loss, and he was ultimately forced to …

So that is how the fleet managed to defeat the Heggies at Sterling and halt their initial assault on the route here to Veloxora.  It was a tough battle and it illustrates the idea of necessary losses to win the day, said Lieutenant Fleets Admiral Savage.  He stopped his pacing in the lecture theater to pull out a cigar and light it.

Sir, said a female student in the front row of the semi-circle of rows of seats.

Yes Clara?

I am going to remind you again that you are not allowed to smoke in the classroom.  It goes against regulations.

Clara and I will remind you once again to get used to it because I am doing everyone a favor, since, in my experience, ninety percent of the time the bridge fills up with smoke during a battle anyway.  Getting you used to this now will make it much better later.  This just smells a hell of a lot better.  The class chuckled, and even Clara smiled. 

Savage ran his fingers through the top of his hip length brown hair, taking in the class room with his vivid green eyes.  He was of athletic build and was quite strong and in good shape.  But most of it came from his hidden identity: Savage was a Guardian, the race of humans with super powers, who were long thought to be myth.  Truth be told, there were no longer as many left in the galaxy as there were when he was born over twenty-five millennia ago.  But because of past events, the Guardians now chose to keep their identities secret and to stay out of galactic politics.

So anybody have any questions?

Savage turned his back on the class, pulled hard on his cigar and started to clean the board.  He hated teaching classes, especially advanced strategy, the course he was currently teaching.  All things being equal, his preference was to be out fighting the Hegemony, rather than taking his turn teaching at the academy for the Territories of the Twenty.  As it was, the other instructors hated him, because he taught the course straight from his battle experience and from a book that had not been in print for a long time, but which taught strategy that proved quite effective against the Hegemony.

He turned around and shook his head at the class.  So if I was to give you an oral exam right now, would anyone pass?

No sir, we wouldn’t, it’s just that...

It’s just what, junior? asked Savage, glaring at the cadet.

Well sir, stammered the student, you’re a living legend, you’ve been in the war since its beginning, and you’re older than anyone.  I mean rumors are that you’re Acronian.

Dabar sighed.  He hated coming up with stories as to why he was so old.  Truth was, his Guardian powers kept him young, and he was already well past the expiry of any humans or other species that could still be hiding in the darkest parts of the galaxy.  It was indeed true that, he was from Acronia, but he’d long ago been exiled and ordered never to return. Savage usually never discussed his origins except with a few chosen ones he could trust.

To answer the age question, he fell back on his old reliable.  Rumors are just rumors. As for my age, I am two hundred fifty four this month.  I was dosed with radiation as a youngster, and it had a stabilizing effect on my DNA, quite unexpected.  That is how I live so long.  Now any other questions, cadets?

Savage nodded and saw there were no more questions and that he still had thirty minutes to kill.

Alright, let’s talk a little about boarding parties.  Something the other teachers do not, but it is becoming more popular with the Heggie commanders by the day.  What are the critical areas of the ship?  Anyone?

Engineering, bridge, weapons control and computer core, said a young freckle-faced lad in the back row.

Good, any other sections? 

Life support sir.

Good, environmental is crucial to getting hold of a ship, or securing it from boarding parties.  I have decided that at the end of the semester after your practicums, we will do a few classes in the gym, teach you all some good hand to hand combat.  Savage inhaled more of his cigar, pulled it back out of his mouth and held it between his index and middle fingers.  If you get boarded, the first thing you do is hand out weapons.  You gotta be prepared to kill people.  I know you’re all officer candidacy, and you think weapons are below you, but it has saved some of my comrades on more than one occasion.  You will notice that I wear my weapons to class.  You’ll notice the two pistols, left one on right hip, and right one on left hip for the quick draw.  There is also my sword, which is very good for close quarters combat in defending your ship.  Also on my person are ten other hidden weapons.

A sword sir? scoffed a student at the front.

Savage pulled it out of its scabbard and swung it around in front of him, much to the fear of the students.  One can easily take a hand off or a leg off with a good sword.  Takes ’em by surprise every time.  And if you are good, you can swing with one hand, while shooting with the other.  The sword was the primary weapon of a Guardian, and a Guardian was never without his sword in case he should meet up with a Blood Knight, their sworn enemies. Savage re-sheathed his sword and sat on the desk at the front of the room and looked out at the students.

Everything being equal, I’ve killed more boarders with my sword than with my pistols.  It’s all about surprising the enemy.  You get the edge on them and they are yours for the killing.

Sir, how hard is it to kill a person? asked a petite brunette meekly at the side of the class.

Savage took a moment and thought about how to answer that question.  Finally he replied.  Your first kill will haunt you for the rest of your life.  There is nothing worse than seeing the life go out of the eyes of the one you kill.  That is why star battles are easier in that regard: you never see your enemy die, you just see an explosion.  But in star battles, you have the equally tough job of ordering people to their deaths.  Look around the room here people: within two years, given present stats of the war, more than fifteen of you will be dead in battle.  I could even be one of them.  No one is safe from death.  And consider this: with death comes the cessation of all good or evil that person will ever do in his life.  All that entailed that particular person is gone forever, never to return, never to exert his influence on any event or person.  He will no longer be able to have kids, raise his family if he has one, and act as a role model for the next generation.  Everything is just gone.  The class sat in silence, thinking about what Savage had just said.  Truth be told, killing didn’t bother him when it came to the enemy, and sometimes he even enjoyed it.  It was those under his command who had lost their lives that haunted him the most.  And once when he was much younger, he’d been an assassin for an Emperor, after serving as a hit man for a crime syndicate that survived to this day.

Savage felt a flickering at the edge of his consciousness.  It was Dianne Sloane, Superior Admiral and the second in command of his navy.  He watched as she entered the room through the door at the top of the stairs.

Admiral Sloane, what can I do for you? asked Savage.

Using his Guardian powers, he probed into her mind and found great alarm.  Her creased face showed stress, her well-kept gray short hair, now mussed up; her gray eyes were boring holes through him.

We need you in command central at once sir, she said, huffing from running to the class room. 

Well class dismissed, be sure to read the next chapter in Zabin’s chronicle.  See you in two days.  The class rushed out and Savage was close behind them.

As he reached the door, Savage saw that Sloane was heading towards the docking bays and not the command center.  He followed close behind, pushing students out of the way in the hallway. Within a few minutes they reached the landing bay and he stopped, grabbed Sloane and pulled her to him. 

Dianne Sloane was special to him, which is why she was in the coveted position of second in command.  Savage had found Dianne homeless on Vergara Five, a hellhole of a planet and had taken her in and raised her like she was his own daughter.  Eventually she had joined the navy and Savage made sure she ended up under his command.  It was now over forty-five years since he found her as an orphan on that backwater of a world.

Dianne, what the hell is going on? This is not the command center! demanded Savage.  He put his cigar back in his mouth and crossed his arms over his chest.

The Fleets Admiral is dead. He was killed at Dubrilla thirty minutes ago.  I didn’t want to say anything in front of the kids.  Logan is in command right now, but the fleet is surrounded, no way of escape and split in two.  The best we can do is to break them out.  Dubrilla is lost.

We can’t afford to lose Dubrilla, Dianne.  This is not acceptable.  What is the status of our fleet?

Underway to jump point beta.  The second I heard, I ordered the fleet to mobility, and out of the docks.

"Good job, and since my shuttle pilot is sick, I have to fly myself over to the Bloodwing."

See you in the fleet.  Dianne turned and boarded a box-like shuttle and the ramp closed.  Savage boarded the shuttle next to Sloan’s and sat down at the controls. 

Savage to control room, requesting permission to launch.

"Permission, denied sir.  We have freighters in the area," said a woman’s voice.

Savage cursed and lifted the shuttle off of the floor.  Denial is overridden, control.  This is a military emergency.  My shuttle is taking off now.

"Sir, I don’t suggest you take off."

Cram it.  Savage set full throttle on the shuttle and it shot out of the bay and almost into a freighter.  He pulled back on the control stick and swooped over top of it, and had to do a quick dive to clear a second ship.  Pulling out of the dive, he set course for the fleet and noted on his sensors that Sloane’s pilot had followed him. 

"Savage to Bloodwing, over."

"Bloodwing here, sir.  We are almost at jump point beta.  What is your ETA?"

Five minutes.  Get me some telemetry on the battle and get Lieutenant Fleets Admiral Hawthorne on the bitch box.  I want him on standby.

Yes sir.

Savage called up the telemetry and hissed.  Grooben you moron, what in the fuck did you do that got us into this mess?  It was clear to Savage that the fleet was divided into two parts, and each part completely surrounded, with no high commanders on the side where the Fleets Admiral had been.  It was so bad, that to call it a disaster would be rather generous.

"Bloodwing, can you raise Lieutenant Fleets Admiral Logan?"

No sir, an unknown source of jamming is preventing communications, but not telemetry.

Try to break through it, Savage out.  Savage turned back to the job of piloting the shuttle and approached his destroyer, the Bloodwing.  It was an oblong ship, with six arms, three on each side, jutting out from the main body with pods on the ends of them.  The lighter cruisers only had two arms on each side.  The pods comprised of engines, warp gate inducers and extra weapons.  Sighting the landing bay that was located on the upper back half of the ship behind the bridge, he guided the shuttle in with the ease of an ace pilot and into a safe landing, and then quickly disembarked.

Wasting no time, Savage rushed to the bridge and jumped over the back railing, and slid into his high-backed command chair.  He looked to the pilot and navigation station in front of him.  Time to jump point beta?

We are in holding pattern, sir, replied the young Commander at the station.

Captain Trent, have you got Hawthorne yet?

Yes sir, on comm line three.

Savage turned back to his command chair and pressed a button. Immediately, two screens from the sides of the chair rose up.  He pressed another button, and a brown haired man in his late thirties, with a beard and mustache appeared. 

Hawthorne here.  What is it, Lieutenant Fleets Admiral Savage?

I am heading to Dubrilla.  That idiot Grooben got himself killed.  Savage watched concern come over Hawthorne’s face.  I want you on standby.  We can’t afford to lose the system, and once I get Logan clear I will try to beat them back to hell.  I need you ready to get your hands dirty if we get overwhelmed.

Very well sir, I will get my fleet ready.  Hawthorne out.  Hawthorne was the third Lieutenant Fleets Admiral; the fleet being split between the three of them and the full-bird Fleets Admiral.

Savage punched a few more buttons on the left arm of his chair and two men popped up on the screen: one much older and graying, the other a young blond haired man. 

Gentlemen, hold your squads here at beta.  I want to get in there and decide where to send you to give the Heggies a swift kick in the ass.  I don’t fully trust the telemetry right now as there is jamming preventing any kind of communications.

Is that a good idea? asked Stone, the older man, his blue eyes full of concern, wrinkles appearing as he scrunched his face.

Remember, it’s surprise, not numbers that are going to get us this one.  Just relax and let me call the shots.  Besides, I have Hawthorne on standby.  Once Logan gets back here and clear of the battle, we’ll regroup with him and nail those bastards.

Sir, should we have our fighters ready for launch as soon as we get there? asked White, peering anxiously around his long bangs, which almost hid his violet eyes.

You betcha.  Launch them as soon as you get in range and order them to attack the arms on those ships.  Just be ready to come in on a weird vector.  I already have an idea where to put you.  Savage out.

Are we ready to go boys and girls? he asked, turning his attention to his officers.

High Master Guardian Hogan stared at the holoimage of Master Guardian Jeb Dogonabar.  Hogan was dressed in a dark brown tunic held together with a white belt. His sword was strapped to his waist as he stood in the communication room.  His gray hair and beard made him look just over fifty, even though he was closer to thirty-five thousand years old.  

What is going on in the Lonsation system?  Please repeat? he asked Jeb again, unable to believe what he’d just been told.

I said it was captured by the Hegemony.  Lonsatia Prime was captured two months ago, and some of the colony worlds before that.  They are killing the populace on some of the colonies and somehow keeping it quiet.

This is unheard of, this brutality.  Are you sure this is really happening?

I’ve witnessed it myself, Hogan, replied Jeb, his long blond hair hanging down his back, and he was dressed like a typical Lonsation in black pants and shirt,