Press The Line: Ganog Wars Book 3 Read online

"I said it should rightfully be you, but you didn't let me finish. I will stand in your stead. Lieutenant Hannan, open a communication channel with the warp anchor."

  Nolan raised an eyebrow, bracing himself for Hannan's response.

  "Yeah, so not your bitch," Hannan said, glaring at Yulo. "You want to open a communication, how about you use the comm unit attached to your wrist?"

  Yulo's fur remained snowy, but he was silent for a long time before answering. "I apologize if I have offended you. Our ways are...different. I meant no disrespect. I do not understand how to use the comm unit." Yulo's shoulder's slumped.

  "It's all right," Annie said. "I know plenty of grunts who aren't good with tech." She sidled over with her comm unit, and aimed the camera at Yulo. "There. I've requested a channel."

  Yulo moved to stand near the center of the room, hands still clasped loosely behind him. He waited patiently, staring at Annie's comm.

  A moment later a hologram flared to life above it, showing a Ganog command disk. A single Ganog stood on the disk, scowling at the screen. His fur was a suspicious green-brown, and he wore his confusion openly. "Master Yulo, I did not expect to see you aboard an alien vessel. Apologies." He gave a perfunctory bow.

  "Accepted, warrior. I issue challenge. I seek business with your leaders." Yulo shifted his stance with casual grace, but the threat was clear.

  "Challenge met and lost." The Ganog gave a respectful bow. "I'd not test your skill, Master. You may warp inside the field. Proceed to the third docking ring, and do not attempt to exit the craft."

  Yulo gave a perfunctory nod. "Done."

  The screen went dark.

  Nolan spoke into his comm. "Major Burke, this is Nolan."

  "This is Burke. Go ahead."

  "We've just gotten the green light from Nyar command to warp to these coordinates," Nolan explained, transmitting the nadir coordinates to Burke.

  "All personnel secure yourselves," Burke said, his voice echoing from the speakers in the cargo hold's wall. "Initiating warp."

  Nolan secured himself against his mech's leg, eyes fixed on the viewscreen. That was an awful lot of rocks, but glittering between them he could see a rich green-and-white world. It looked like Earth from orbit, save that the waters were a deep emerald instead of blue.

  The world tilted, and Nolan's body twisted and folded in on itself. The warp completed with a pop, and the perspective shifted. The viewscreen now showed an unblocked view of the world--very much like Earth, but with more cloud cover.

  An enormous multi-limbed station floated nearby, every bit as large as a Ganog dreadnought. Its spindly arms were pointed in their direction, and the purple reactor flares at the station's center painted it into a vengeful spider.

  "We may proceed to the planet, Captain," Yulo said, walking back to his corner. He settled into a lotus position against the wall. "My part in this is done. I will not be able to use further influence to get you an audience with the Nyar clan leader. That, you will have to accomplish on your own."

  "One thing at a time," Nolan said, giving a half-smile. This wasn't a big victory, but he'd learned to savor even the little ones. "We're over the first hurdle, we'll get past the others. Nothing is going to stop us from getting this done."

  The battleship descended toward the world below, quickly approaching the upper atmosphere. There was a faint shudder from the friction, but nothing compared to what Nolan was used to in Aluki's Ganog cruiser, or even the Peregrine. This ship was a titan, a warship of a whole other caliber than anything Nolan had ever served aboard.

  There was one more small lurch, then they dropped smoothly through the atmosphere. Below them stretched a seemingly endless blue-and-green forest, the trees butting up against a dark ocean. Here and there, mountains poked from the trees, but most hills were swallowed by a mass of arboreal growth.

  A single city was visible, a perfect circle cut into the forest a few kilometers from the ocean. Dozens of black spires stabbed into the sky, the tallest reaching far higher than the towering trees. They were different than the spires on Imperalis--more austere, and forbidding.

  The clusters of ships around them were painted in dark tones, more somber than the jeweled cluster of ships around the empress's spire.

  These Ganog were warriors, first and foremost. Dealing with them wouldn't be like dealing with the Yog or the Vkash.

  3

  EXPLAIN

  Fizgig paced back and forth before the portable holo, waiting for the call to connect. A two-meter-tall hologram of Dryker finally appeared, its resolution showing every wrinkle in his rumpled uniform. His hair had been combed, but his shaggy face-mane was badly in need of grooming.

  "Explain," Fizgig snapped. "I want to hear it from you."

  "Hello, Fizgig." Dryker gave a slow smile. The wretched human was immune to her anger. "It's good to see you. You want to hear it from me? Okay, that's fair. You're not getting anything. The Demetrius is it. No further vessels will be allocated to any action in Ganog space. Period."

  "Dryker, you are no fool. You are a warrior. You know--"

  "No," Dryker snapped. For the first time in years, she saw in his eyes the fire that had made her fear this man during the Eight Year War. "I'm a politician, Fizgig. Not a soldier. I can't just issue orders and expect them to be followed. I have to answer to the goddamned media, and the congressional oversight committee."

  Fizgig blinked slowly. "Are you telling me that...politics prevents you from doing what is necessary to win the war for our species' survival?"

  "That's exactly what I'm saying. You have no idea how much political capital I burned getting Nolan and the Demetrius for you." Dryker's hologram walked to a mahogany desk. He poured himself a drink and turned back to the screen. "Consider it from their perspective. The Ganog invaded our space, forcing us to evacuate worlds. They destroyed multiple fleets. They crippled us. And now you want me to try to sell an alliance? It's everything I can do to keep Congress from declaring war on the entire Imperium. The only thing that let me do that was explaining that while the Ganog tear themselves apart, we could use the time to rearm."

  "Dryker, the Gorthians are here. I feel it in my bones," Fizgig reasoned, as calmly as she was able. She sat slowly, settling into the cushions she'd had brought when she arrived on Takkar's dreadnought. "Nolan was right about these Nameless Ones. If we do not stop them, they will devour the Ganog, and then they will devour us."

  Dryker gave a bitter laugh. "You think I don't realize that? Where's the proof, Fizgig? Where's the footage I can show on Quantum? I can't make unilateral decisions based on your gut, even if I agree with them. I was infected, remember? I have a bigger stake in this than anyone, because I know exactly what the Gorthians can do. I'm telling you the political reality. I can't get you even one more vessel." Dryker paused, leaning against his desk. "I'm staking my career on having you there as an advisor. I've told Congress that's how to ensure that the war is as costly as possible, so the Ganog are too weak to resist us when it's over. Make no mistake, Fizgig, the Coalition will come for the Imperium--probably sooner than either of us is ready for."

  "Who's leading this foolish call for war?" Fizgig snapped, digging her claws into the cushion.

  "Carnifex." Dryker sighed. "I actually like Carnifex, and you know what? I get where he's coming from. We've been invaded, and we have every right to fight back. Carnifex doesn't care about an unprovable threat we may have to face in the future. He cares about victory over an immediate threat, and a guarantee he won't ever have to flee his world again. What the hell am I supposed to say to that?"

  Fizgig's tail lashed. "I see your dilemma. There is no answer his Pride will find acceptable. There is no way to show them the danger, not until we have concrete proof--and the damnable Gorthians make that proof nearly impossible to find."

  "Proof Nolan had better get," Dryker snapped. He swirled the liquid in his glass, closing his eyes for a moment. "I'm sorry, Fizgig. It's just this job. It's so much worse than being a ca
ptain. It saps the life from you."

  "And yet you persevere. Why, Dryker?" Fizgig asked, in a rare moment of introspection. "You and I can speak frankly, warrior to warrior. Why do you still struggle? Why not set the burden down? No one would fault you for it." She had shared so much with this man, both as an enemy and as a friend. No one else understood the burdens of command as well as he did, and the toll they took as the decades passed.

  "You know why." Dryker sipped his drink. "We do it because no one else can. I will say this, though, old friend. No matter what happens, this is my last war. I won't be running for re-election." He set the drink down.

  He looked so old, so tired. So different from the stalwart warrior she'd first met.

  But was she any different? Tired and old, the pair of them.

  "I can say the same, Dryker. Whatever happens, this is the end for me. I look forward to that day, when we can set the burdens down and rest." Fizgig gritted her teeth, rising from her cushions. "But that day is not today. I will report the outcome of the summit. Be well, Dryker."

  "Be well, old friend," Dryker said, raising his glass to her. The holo went dark.

  4

  THE SUMMIT

  The transport disk zoomed toward a large island near the center of Takkar's dreadnought. It brought back memories of fleeing for his life, and Khar found it more than a little odd to be returning as an ally.

  He hopped from the transport disk, landing next to Zakanna. The empress--if that title was accurate any longer--wore her usual simple gi, the white fabric contrasting nicely with her purple fur. She walked purposefully toward the three-story spire, and Khar kept pace.

  "Why did you choose to hold the summit here?" Khar rumbled. "You could have made everyone come to you." His scanners detected nothing out of the ordinary, but he kept alert regardless. There'd been too many nasty surprises recently, and his trust was gone.

  "That's precisely why I came," Zakanna explained. "As Empress, I would have summoned them. But I am Empress no longer. At best, I am Clan Leader, the same as T'kon or Takkar. We are equals, and I want to show them that." The words were imbued with her usual passion and fervor. She took ruling seriously--something Khar admired about her.

  "A wise course. Takkar, at least, is a proud man. Perhaps this will make him more likely to work with us." Khar disliked Takkar. Takkar was a fine tactical commander, but too sure of himself--much as Khar had been before meeting Fizgig. That was probably exactly what Takkar needed: a tutor like her to teach him humility.

  They entered the spire. Khar noted that they seemed to be the last to arrive. Takkar stood on one side of the command dais, with a single Saurian techsmith behind him. T'kon stood on the opposite side, as far from Takkar as he could get. He had also brought a techsmith, and a grey-furred Ganog that Khar thought must be his wife.

  Khar moved to stand next to the last person. "Mighty Fizgig." He snapped his hand over his heart and gave a respectful bow.

  Zakanna followed a moment later, also bowing to Fizgig.

  Fizgig eyed him critically. "Khar. Your fur is a disgrace. Do not think you may stop bathing merely because your body is synthetic." Fizgig turned toward the empress, giving the suggestion of a bow. "Welcome, Zakanna."

  Khar found himself licking his wrist, then grooming the fur on the back of his neck very self-consciously. It was out of character for Fizgig to point out something like that publicly, but she always had a reason for the actions she took. Khar glanced at Zakanna, then back at Fizgig.

  He was being tested. Fizgig wanted to see if she could make him uncomfortable in front of Zakanna, and she'd succeeded. He'd just betrayed his affection for the displaced monarch.

  At least he was conscious of the game now, even if he wasn't yet at her level. He gave Fizgig an affectionate smile. "I've missed you, venerable one."

  "Venerable?" Fizgig's tail slashed behind her.

  Khar laughed. Fizgig's tail settled into a languid swish. "I've heard impressive tales of the battle at Atreas."

  Across the dais, Takkar scowled, his fur darkening. "Before you share any 'tales' I'd remind you that I'm standing right here." He snorted, eyes flaring as his lower nostrils opened. "We may be allies--briefly--but if you make a mockery of me or my clan, I will--"

  "You'll do nothing," Zakanna snapped, leaping atop the dais. She stabbed a finger down at Takkar. "Your pride is a burden we cannot afford--not now. Not with the survival of our race at stake. There will be no posturing. Today, we come together. Yesterday is debris in the void. Let it go, Takkar."

  "You are no longer my ruler, Zakanna," Takkar growled, but his fur softened back to brown. "Yet even I can admit the sense in what you're saying." He looked back to Khar. "Forgive my blustering. My pride stings after the twin defeats at Ganog 7 and Atreas. You must understand--I have never lost, and in my time as Clan Leader have delivered more worlds to the Vkash clan than anyone in living memory."

  Zakanna walked quietly back to Khar and Fizgig, hopping down from the dais. She turned back to Takkar. "I lost Imperalis, a world that has belonged to my family for six millennia."

  Fizgig made an amused sound, drawing a baleful stare from Zakanna.

  "Neither of you understands the scale of the loss we are about to face," Fizgig said. "Three species were savaged by the Void Wraith, seven in ten are dead. My people lost nearly everything." She blinked at Takkar. "The road here is salted with the blood of the fallen. Our people have all suffered. That suffering was not without purpose. It taught me--taught the Coalition--that working with former enemies can sometimes be the only route to survival. Yet such a route isn't easy to walk. You attacked my people without provocation, Takkar. Every instinct urges me to tear out your throat."

  "Tear out my throat?" Takkar threw his head back and laughed. "You are an old woman--a tiny old woman. I do not fear tiny old women, not even in my lesser form."

  Khar took three steps back, away from Fizgig. He waited for her to kill Takkar, but her only reaction was the same languid tail swishing. Takkar continued to laugh.

  Fury boiled inside Khar. "If you do not cease that braying, I will tear out your tongue, Ganog." Khar ignited the plasma blade on his wrist. "I do not know why Fizgig allows you to continue to draw breath--but if she will not defend her honor, I will."

  "Khar!" Fizgig snapped. The word cracked into him like a physical blow. "This is not the way."

  Khar stared hard at Takkar, ready to end him--but Fizgig was right.

  Khar extinguished his blade, though he offered no apology. He folded his arms, staring a challenge at Takkar. Let the brute come. Khar didn't need a mech to deal with him.

  "I am the person with the least standing at this table." T'kon's rumbled words drew everyone's attention. His fur was orange-brown, and his mouth turned down in a frown. His wife wore a matching expression. "We spoke of mistakes. I cost my clan everything--something I have yet to atone for. We speak of working with enemies. No one hates Takkar more than I do. No one has greater cause to claim his life." His eyes met Khar's. "If I can ignore the needs of my honor, then you can certainly do the same. Takkar will seek to bait you. Do not let him. We all share the same goal, and if working with people we detest is the most difficult trial we face, we are fortunate indeed."

  There were nods of approval all around.

  Khar grudgingly added his. "Your words have merit. We do not need to like each other. We merely need to come together toward a common cause."

  "If we are to proceed with that cause," Zakanna said, "we need a fleet leader."

  Khar looked to Fizgig, but she said nothing. Nor did Zakanna, despite either being a viable choice.

  "I possess the strongest fleet, and have the most experience," Takkar pointed out, breaking the silence.

  Khar couldn't let the latter statement stand. "If anyone is placed in charge, it should be Mighty Fizgig. She's embarrassed you twice, Takkar. Surely you recognize that she is the superior commander." He pointed it out not to embarrass Takkar--though if that happened,
he could live with it--but to defend Fizgig.

  "I could not accept the role, even if it were offered," Fizgig said. She folded her arms, her tail swishing its agitation. "I spoke with President Dryker just before this meeting. I am here in an advisory capacity only."

  "That makes Takkar the logical choice," T'kon said. His fur rippled red-brown, and his wife gawked as if she were meeting him for the first time. "I know, my words surprise you all. I do not wish to entrust my people's fate to a brute, but I see little choice. We need a leader, one who has led entire fleets into battle. Takkar is that, if nothing else. The Azi will follow Takkar, if Takkar is willing to accept Fizgig as an advisor--an advisor he will actually listen to."

  "Takkar, are you willing to agree to that condition?" Zakanna asked.

  "Very well, she may stay aboard my vessel and advise me on my deployments. I give my word that I will listen to her counsel, and implement anything that will give us a better chance of survival. In the end, though, I am in charge. I will do what I see fit. Before you make me fleet leader, be certain you can live with that." Takkar folded his arms and stared defiantly in Khar's direction.

  "I can." Zakanna folded her arms. "We've already heard from T'kon. Fizgig, will you serve Takkar in an advisory capacity?"

  5

  FLEET LEADER

  Takkar hated dealing with these fools, but one did not always get to choose ones allies. He studied Fizgig as she considered Zakanna's question. Such strange aliens, these Tigris. They possessed fur, at least, but the tail was an oddity.

  Yet in that strange body lurked the cunning and intelligence that had so successfully overcome him. Twice.

  Zakanna folded her arms. "We've already heard from T'kon. Fizgig, will you serve Takkar in an advisory capacity?"

  "As you wish." Fizgig's tail had stopped moving entirely, and her gaze was fixed on Takkar. "It's just as well. President Dryker only procured a single ship, and even that was difficult. The Demetrius went with Nolan on his mission to Nyar, leaving me without a vessel. I am happy to serve Takkar in an advisory capacity."