Nebula One: Waxian Territory Outer Rim

Jag stood with his hands clasped behind his back. He was staring intently at the three large Waxian warships slowly moving over the remnants of a moon. They had arrived only moments before the warships did.

Thunder and Vice stood to his left side while the Kassisan, Dakar, stood to his right. They watched in silence as the first of the large ships searched over the pockmarked remains of the crystal moon. In the background, they listened to the communications between the ships.

“Scanners reveal the debris belongs to at least two fighters. Sir, there is another warship approaching,” the Trivator to the left informed them.

“Thunder, I want you and Vice to take one of the modified fighters and search the moon. I want you to find the ship before they do,” Jag grimly replied.

Thunder nodded, then Vice and he strode off the bridge. Jag could feel Dakar’s unease. He looked at the Kassisan.

“What is it?” he asked, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

Dakar nodded. “Four warships, at least a hundred fighters, against one. Not the best odds,” he observed.

Jag shrugged. “I’ve been in worse. We have the element of surprise and concealment thanks to Ajaska,” he said.

“And…,” Dakar prompted.

“We Trivators are not without our own technology and resources,” Jag replied with a smug smile.

“Sir, we are receiving a message on a secure emergency frequency,” the man at the communications console said.

Jag frowned. “Play the message,” he ordered.

The communications specialist nodded and activated the com for the bridge. There was a brief moment of silence before a deep voice spoke. Jag lowered his arms and his jaw tightened.

“This is Edge, Trivator warrior identification E585, requesting emergency rescue assistance. We are aboard the Dauntless Explorer in Waxian territory. I don’t have much time. I’ve programmed the ship to jump to Jawtaw territory once we are able. There are seven aboard. Again, this is Edge, Trivator warrior identification E585, requesting emergency rescue assistance.”

Jag turned to the communications specialist. “Can you lock onto the signal?” he demanded.

“Yes, sir, but it is faint. It is coming from the moon. I would need a ship to get closer and act as a booster to pinpoint the exact location. The pyroxene is distorting the signal,” he replied.

Dakar turned to look at Jag. “It would help if you had another fighter out there. If Thunder and Vice discover the ship and Edge is unable to pilot it, you’ll need one of us to do it while the others help provide cover,” he pointed out.

Jag nodded. “Take the other fighter,” he ordered before turning to the communications specialist. “Notify Thunder and Vice of the situation. I want that ship found. Elevate the ship’s status to Level 5, and prepare for battle.”

“Yes, sir,” the communications specialist responded.

Jag narrowed his glare on the three Waxian warships. They were focused on the moon. Their scanners had detected the decoy flares, but they had ignored them.

Jag knew enough to be familiar with that tactic, and it didn’t appear to be working. Edge didn’t have much time.

“Sir, the fourth warship is coming out of space jump. It is a Waxian Battle Tank,” the navigator informed him.

Jag took a deep breath as the massive ship came into view. The Waxian Battle Tank held five hundred fighters, had reinforced armament, and a crew of eight hundred. The three smaller ships, which could easily fit inside it, were overshadowed by this Battle Tank.

“Thunder…,” Jag warned.

“We see it. Fortunately, it can’t see us,” Thunder replied. “We are going in.”

“Dakar will assist you. I would prefer not to engage the four Waxian warships if possible,” Jag dryly replied.

Jag watched as one fighter appeared on the viewscreen followed by another. He hoped to the Goddess that the Kassisan cloaking device was as good as Ajaska and Razor insisted. If it wasn’t, this was going to be a brutal battle with the odds heavily stacked against them. He walked over to the captain’s chair and sat down. Now, it was a matter of ‘wait and see.’

* * *

On-board the Waxian Battle Tank:

Katma Achler sat in the commander’s chair. She impatiently tapped the armrest with her fingers. Her focus was directed at the three smaller warships.

“I want the entire moon scanned,” she ordered.

“Yes, Commander,” the captain of one of the warships acknowledged.

“Have you found it yet?” she demanded, looking at the communications officer.

The man shook his head. “Not yet, Commander,” he replied.

“Keep scanning,” she said, rising to her feet. “They are in there.”

Katma clenched her right fist. Her first thought had been to blow the remains of the moon to dust. The two problems with that plan were that she wanted her ship back and she had promised Prymorus that she would capture the Trivator and the human alive. She had been denied the chance to kill Deppar, perhaps Prymorus would give her the pleasure of killing the human female in exchange.

The woman was the root of the issue. She had taken the Trivator out from under Deppar’s nose, and Katma suspected that this woman was also the one who had found the ship she had appropriated several years before. No one stole from her and lived. It was a matter of principle.

Patience had never been her strongest trait. Revenge, on the other hand, was, and she reveled in it. She paced back and forth while the communications officer continued to listen for the tracking code Katma had programmed into the Dauntless’ computer. Then she stopped and looked out the viewscreen at the warships scanning the moon.

“I know you are there,” she murmured. She tapped her foot. “Dispatch a squadron of fighters to start searching the caverns.”

“Yes, Commander,” the First Officer said, before he pressed the com button. “Dispatch a squadron of fighters to initiate a search of the moon.”

“Now, for a little game of hide and seek,” Katma murmured with a sly grin. “I do love a good hunt. It will make killing you all the sweeter.”

Katma did not miss the uneasy glances between the other crew members on the bridge. She didn’t care. Her focus was on standing beside Prymorus when he brought the Alliance to their knees.

Then I will do the same for my darling husband. Queen Katma… No, Empress Katma, she thought with a menacing smile.