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The Alexanderov Federation
Book 1 The Grendarl War

Part Seventeen - The Battle for Rrk'g'kreg III (V)

"Stockert to 51 and 71. Move into position and take out the Silicoid sensor platforms in orbit. You will have three minutes before their missile bases can fire again, pour it on."

Goodman smiled. Good, he didn't forget, after all, he thought. If we can destroy their sensor platforms before the next salvo, we can adjust our position and if they fire they'll just fire off into space.


P'daR'T'S was not happy. In another two minutes he would have another salvo from the planetary missile bases ready, but he no longer had any IF orbitals or any ships capable of firing missiles.

"Sir! Some of the enemy ships are moving again! They are moving to positions slightly off axis from their main fleet and approaching us somewhat, but they are staying out of PD range," his sensor officer reported.

"What type of ships?"

"It appears they are their heavy beam light-cruisers."

"Prepare to fire as soon as possible. Next missile salvo targeted on those ships."


Ninety seconds passed as task forces 51 and 71 hustled to get into position. Their commodore chose to split into two groups. Task Force 71 would take out the sensor platform that at its current orbital position was closest to the core, and which was soon about to pass behind the planet. Task Force 51 would take out the one closest to them, and with their much greater numbers would then turn and take out the outward platform that was just moving out from behind the planet and into view.

"FIRE!" he exclaimed as the last ships reached the correct position fifteen seconds later. Immediately all ships opened up and within ten seconds the closest platform was little more than space dust, and the coreward platform was heavily damaged. Task Force 51's guns fell silent as they re-targeted on the second platform, wasting only a second. They began firing again just before the coreward platform finally was completely destroyed, and within 5 seconds began to do some serious damage. But they were still too late.


Turley didn't even bother with protocol. "Incoming! Targeted on TFs 51 and 71!"

"Goodman to 57.1 and fighters, move to cover 51 and take out those missiles! 77.1, switch to a wall formation and cover 71!"

Though only 4,000 missiles were launched this time, the extra five seconds it took the PD ships to get into firing range meant they had only three quarters of the time to fire on the incoming missiles. 77.1, containing the Psilon PD ships and the newer Human PD destroyers, was still able to handle the incoming fire, though a few ships took minor splash damage. 57.1, however, despite the help of the fighters still lost over a hundred ships, and 75 of the beam light cruisers were destroyed as well. But the goal was accomplished. The Grendarl were now blind.

"Sir, 55 and 75 are adjusting position. It appears pretty random, must be trying to make sure the Grendarl couldn't guess where they've gone," Turley reported.

"Goodman to 57.1 and 77.1 Fire the next salvo immediately. Without the Silicoid sensor platforms, they should not be able to target your missiles. Then move to flanking positions by 51 and 71, respectively."

Again a chatter of acknowledgments came back, followed shortly by the launching of two thousand missiles, which quickly MIRV-ed out into eight thousand, more than enough to wipe out the remaining 6,000 Grendarl fighters. And since they were a bit closer now, it was only 12 seconds to impact from the time of launch. Goodman watched as the missiles drew closer and closer to the Grendarl. Though scrambling around like ants who'd just had their anthill knocked over, none of the fighters were yet moving forward to engage the Humans. And nobody reacted to the incoming missiles until they started exploding among the fighter groups. With less than a second from the first explosion to the last, none had time to react. Every Grendarl fighter was destroyed, and the carrier frigates were pretty badly mauled by the remaining missiles, destroying over 1,500, more than a quarter of their original count.

"Goodman to Stockert." No response.

"Admiral Stockert, come in please!"

The channel was silent.


k'Nf'S'i'S let his assistants supervise the loading of the ships. Food and supplies had been loaded during construction, they just had to ferry the crews aboard. Anybody with half a brain could handle that job. He had a more important one.

"Then it is decided?" he asked the viewscreen in front of him. The creature on the screen was not particularly aesthetically pleasing to his eyes, but they too disliked the humans. They would help him. They must agree to help him.

"It is agreed."

"Thank you, Lord S'tar." He bowed as gracefully as one of his bulk could. The screen blinked off. Only then did he allow his skin color to change to show his emotions.

Yes! Our revenge is now assured!


"Admiral! Respond, PLEASE!" Goodman practically shouted. Finally, a response came in.

"It's my fault." The voice was shockingly hollow, as if the owner of the voice had been drained of all life. It was barely recognizable, with extreme effort, as belonging to Admiral Stockert.

"What do you mean, sir? We're winning!"

"All those ships destroyed. My fault. I miscalculated how long they'd have between planetary missile salvos. My fault they are dead."

"OK, sir, yes that's unfortunate, but they knew the risks going into this fight. If they weren't willing to give their lives for our cause they would not be here. You made a mistake. Fine. It's done, now SNAP OUT OF IT! We will grieve for the dead later. We still need your guidance to finish this fight!"

"No, you don't. You came up with the strategy that got us this far. It's your fight to finish."


The only response was the sound of a fusion hand weapon firing.


P'daR'T'S knew he was doomed if he couldn't pull a miracle out of his tail spines. He could no longer see the enemy to fire at them, and firing blindly into space was not going to accomplish anything. "Have they found it yet?"

"Aye sir. They say they can launch it in about half an hour."

"In half an hour we'll all be dead. Tell them they have five minutes."




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