     |
KIS Khaar’Vakh; Flag Bridge
The H’Hral V’kass System,
K’vt Tag Quadrant, Vukar Tag Sector
DEC 07 2793/2793.341; 1025 Hours (CST)
Baron Jhathar nar Caxki strode across his bridge with impatience and contained anger. He sat on his regal command chair and found a status report on an armrest monitor to occupy himself with.
After a few minutes of going over with members of his Cadre how many more Kilrathi ships had been lost or destroyed in battle in the constant skirmishes in the Trk’Pahn and Jih’tahn sectors, Jhathar looked away.
The Kilrathi Imperium... could they even call it that anymore? In the beginning they were strong, vigilant, insusceptible to any enemy who would dare confront them. The Dolosians, Eyoka, Gorth, Hari, Ka, Sorn, Utara, Varni, Wu—all had fallen before the might of the Empire. They’d even managed to fight the old Mantu race into a stalemate at the turn of the twenty-seventh century.
Then the Heart of the Tiger came. A single bomb dropped from his fighter’s hold destroyed the Kilrathi homeworld and brought the Eighth Empire to its knees, making much of their bulk to agree to a treaty with the humans. Those who surrendered were forced to dismantle their warships, leaving them no better off than the races they’d conquered over the centuries. But the conditions of the Treaty of Torgo and Ko-bar Yagar were not wholly adhered to by all within the eight Great Clans. Some resisted, clinging to their fleets; others simply continued building their warships. The Kilrathi Imperium formed as a new Emperor was crowned, though it proved to be held together by mere strings as it all but collapsed into the Kilrathi Assembly of Clans, then decades later rose a second time only to fall again. Too much, however, had been lost from the war with the Terrans and the ongoing battles amongst the clans. The Empire itself, the Kilrathi Imperium, currently in its fourth incarnation—or twelfth, if factoring in the numerous dynastic wars and the Assembly—was barely able to maintain its fledgling integrity over the ensuing decades, clearly suffering from corruption and inept weakness from within. The Great Clans had been nearly slashed in half after over a century of infighting, the only clans having stood the test of time being nar Caxki, Kiranka, Ki’ra, Sho’lar, and Kur’u’tak. The unspoken truth was that they were sadly depleted, a mere pale shadow of the grand, feared force they had once been only a century before.
All because of one hairless ape, one Terran warrior who possessed the power to humble them all where all the others of his kind had utterly failed. The bane of the Kilrathi; the scourge of Kilrah; the Heart of the Tiger.
The current Emperor on the capital world of Rawsh was an old Kilrathi, his judgment impaired by his decrepit old age—if by nothing else. Those who followed him found this out firsthand, giving their lives on the battlefield in impossibly mismatched offensives that should never have taken place. The fool’s only claim to the throne was his noble bloodline, a claim that had lost whatever validity it may have had decades ago.
It was time for a new ruler to take their place at the seat of the Empire. A Kilrathi willing to step forward and lead the Empire to its former glory. They were ready. One had only to possess the strength to do what was necessary.
Jhathar had spent his life trying to be the Kilrathi who could finally turn the Empire around. Joining an Imperial squadron at only thirteen years of age, he’d fought fiercely on the front lines for the militaristic Clan Caxki, working his way up the ranks to attain the title Baron and the flag rank of Khantahr. Given another couple of years, Jhathar would almost certainly rise to become Kal Thak’hra—the clan leader of nar Caxki, a position his dying uncle currently occupied.
He wasn’t the sort of kil to wait.
A lowborn officer turned to Jhathar. "Baron, two Terran capital ships have just jumped in-system! Distance..." he stopped to check his readings, "... seventeen eights of eight ahead."
"Classifications...?"
"The first is unlisted—it is big, half of half eight octomaks in length and—"
"Does it have a registration?"
"Yes, my lord. It is... a Kindred vessel. Property of a Terran named Vell Ricaud II."
"And the second ship?"
"The Confederation megacarrier they call the TCS Blair."
Jhathar stood, his face suddenly full of anticipation. He licked his lips, his face contorting in the Kilrathi version of a smile. "Ah, the Heart of the Tiger and his companion arrive at last."
Jhathar’s trusted Tho’reari for more years than he could remember, Threphek nar Sho’lar, rose from his console. "So it seems," he spoke, a suspicious tone to his voice. "Have our efforts been so quickly rewarded?"
"It appears as such, Threphek," Jhathar responded. "You may send the Terran space marshal the schematics he requested."
Threphek bowed slightly. "Understood, Baron."
Jhathar turned back to the officer. "Decloak the Khaar’Vakh and prepare my fighter. Have my elite report to their own fighters and meet me in space."
"At once, Baron."
Eagerly, he made his way toward the end of the bridge and the lift. His grand designs were finally coming to a head. He’d prove himself to be the rightful heir to the Fourth Imperium in defeating the Heart of the Tiger in honorable battle.
He would do his hrai proud. The kil who proved to his brethren he could best the Heart of the Tiger in combat would be unchallenged for the throne.
TCS Blair; Bridge
1031 Hours (CST)
"Kilrathi warship decloaking to port!"
Blair’s gaze swept to an area of space over the western hemisphere of H’hral III, where a monstrous shape was fluctuating into being.
"Scramble all fighters!" Captain Kincaid bellowed. "I want a full compli—"
"No!" Space Marshal Albrecht’s voice squawked over the HoloNet transmission channel that opened itself. Before Blair had rendezvoused back with the TCS Blair, the man had insisted on maintaining continuous updates on the situation within the system and was monitoring their conversations. "They will not—repeat, not—open fire on your ship! They are only interested in Blair. I hoped he had discussed this with you."
Blair wrinkled his nose as he was reminded of the deal ConFleet High Command had struck with the Kilrathi on his unspoken behalf—the deal that had led to his second resurrection. Clan Sho’lar, working with Clan Caxki, came to Space Marshal Albrecht with an offer: a revolutionary, freshly developed prototype of a Space-Folding Drive for the opportunity to have one of their nobles personally duel Christopher Blair.
Space-Folding was a million light years beyond Akwende Jump Drive, quite literally, as it enabled almost instant travel to anywhere in the universe. In the same amount of time it currently took to jump with Jump Drive from system to system, with Space-Folding Drive, a person could effectively "fold" across twenty galaxies. Blair hadn’t been told the exact physics of which S-Fold Drive operated on, but he couldn’t deny its breakthrough potential.
"Stand down fighter squadrons," Kincaid ceded, belaying her original order. She glanced at Blair. "I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, Chris."
Blair started for the turbolift.
F/A-905B Nexus 101
1052 Hours (CST)
"You going to be okay doing the hero thing out there, man?" Vell asked over the comm.
Blair pulled his fighter over hard, diving beneath the TCS Blair to take on a vector to the Kilrathi cruiser. "Yes."
"You sure you’re not going to need any hel—"
"This is a one-on-one conflict," Blair shot, a touch of venom to his voice. Whether it was a result of wounded pride or simply the fact that he wasn’t in the best of moods, one could only guess. "I don’t need or want any crutches."
"Just don’t go and get yourself killed again, all right?"
Blair ignored Vell’s question of concern as he maximized his thrust, then hitting the afterburners. The gap that separated him from the cruiser was narrowing quickly.
Then he saw it. Three small red blip on his HUD, appearing just beside the larger one that represented the Kilrathi cruiser. Blair ran his tracker over the hostile targets, selecting the lead, smaller red blip. He opened his communications menu and brought it up. "This is supposed to be between me and you, Jhathar. Lose the flunkies."
"I did not intend to involve them in our duel, Heart of the Tiger," a deep, grating Kilrathi voice replied over the vidcomm. "Given the history between the Terran and the Kilrathi, we merely feared the Confederation might simply decide to seize the opportunity to take out a Kilrathi baron. They are my elite guards, the Drakhai of Clan Caxki. Since you have shown up in earnest, I will now dispense with them."
The hundreds of klicks between Blair and Jhathar narrowing over the next few seconds, he noticed two of the small red blips disappear off the HUD. The lead blip continued onward, the distance now only 400 klicks.
"Let’s just get this the hell over with," Blair spoke.
Steadying his crosshairs as they turned red over the brackets of the incoming fighter, he prepared a Mk7 Pilum IFF missile. The instant the distance hit 250 klicks, Blair fired three of them off, immediately pulling into a Shelton afterburner slide. The maneuver brought a fleeting feeling of remembrance to his mind. Gods, how Maniac used to boast about those damned "killer" Shelton slides of his...
The first two missiles impacted one after the other, the third streaking harmlessly by to be easily evaded if Jhathar had any maneuvering skill whatsoever. The chaff pod countermeasures he released took the blow.
Still pulling his slide, Blair cut loose with every cannon on his ship. Two Pulsar turrets, two Mass Ion Cannons, and two Kraven Mark VI lasers found their marks, sending the Kilrathi fighter careening away.
The fighter recovered quickly. The Kilrathi ship gave him the impression of a heavily upgraded and considerably evolved version of the second-generation Bloodfang fighter Thrakhath had been piloting over Kilrah a century ago. It fired off a quintet of IFF missiles of its own, forcing Blair to go into evasive maneuvers while it got back up to speed. Dodging and weaving into a barrel roll, he found his Nexus fighter suddenly reeling from six repeated blasts. In no more than five seconds, his aft shields had been all but obliterated.
He saw his opening. Blair pulled to the side, rolling. Switching armaments, he armed his Leech Guns. Cutting loose with twenty shots that buried themselves into Jhathar’s port shields, then hull, he pulled away, preparing for another run.
A few hits managed to get by, despite his maneuvers, but they didn’t stop his next onslaught. Peppering the side he’d already weakened, he continued pummeling the fighter with his Leech Guns. When the ship’s afterburners quit and it made no attempt to turn, he knew the guns had done their job.
Jhathar was disabled.
Steadying his crosshairs again, Blair prepared a light torpedo. He’d leave no margin for error. "Sorry, Baron, but it’s over," he spoke. "I’ve won your little game."
Jhathar cackled in his gruff Kilrathi voice, the transmission coming in with a garbling of static, "I can think of no greater honor than meeting my end at the hands of my people’s mightiest enemy. May you forever walk with Sivar, Heart of the Tiger. My people named you well."
Blair fired. The Kilrathi fighter, unable to maneuver, didn’t even have to be locked for Blair’s torpedo to hit home. As the torpedo’s warhead detonated on impact, the fighter was consumed in an explosion meant for the destruction of capital ships.
Bringing his fighter around, he headed back for the TCS Blair.
He’d done his part, paid his dues and debts... and more importantly, he had gotten his answers.
Christopher Blair was finally free.