Those were the days when boys were men in 1099 AD. A gigantic wooden sailing ship drifted alone in the ether stream orbiting Jupiter. The dark, coarse beams had been sanded with an iron sponge to erase any smooth finish so coveted on water ships. The goal was camouflage: a deliberate splintering of wooden slivers to absorb the starlight. As large as it was, the royal trireme was barely visible in the gleam of a planet and three nearby moons.
“Right full rudder, bow up 14 degrees.”
Deep growls in an ancient language bounded from the dry, pasty throats of a hundred sober crewmen. The sailors swore in the name of Zoroaster as fully armored guards sauntered the decks with whips in one hand and unsheathed swords in the other. The ship turned abruptly, skimming the edge of the ether stream. Powerful ion currents grabbed the front of the boat and sucked her into the eddy, whirling her forward downstream 10,000 knots faster. The clamoring slaves struggled to maintain hold of the rigging, few of them daring downward glances towards the dismal sphere.
“Captain of surveillance requesting permission to enter.”
“Permission granted.”
A lavishly costumed officer stepped quickly into the emperor’s quarters barely taking time for an obligatory bow to the ground and pretending to kiss the floorboards. The linens on the royal bed swayed over the sides with the rocking of the ship; king Priam sat cross-legged behind the footboard meditating in the ancient manner. A scarlet sash with 24 Karat gold trim lay folded at his feet. His Robes exposed his chest as he relaxed himself on the bed.
The captain was embarrassed. “My Lord if I had known…”
“There’s no time for apologies. Urgency is the word of the day.” With amazing alacrity the monarch jumped from his bed, still maintaining an appearance of restfulness. Panic was not an emotion often associated with the Persian royal family. Especially now, with the end so near, coolness was valued above all else.
“My Lord, the watchman says he has spotted the fleet. There could be several hundred of them sailing ahead of us to the rendezvous point.”
“Is he sure they’re ours?”
“How could he not be… that many ships. Who else could be this close?”
The king nodded. “Inform Demetrius, and the lieutenant of my guard I want protocols observed to the letter. I will accept not nothing short of the strictest order on my ship. It is important for the fleet commander to see this when he steps aboard.”
The Captain bowed again and kissed the floor. This time he left real saliva behind near the doormat.
The king closed his eyes as his minion left. Powerful emotions: memories, fears, and longings surged through his purple veins in constancy with his iron will. Memories are good: as long as one remembers well. Attention to detail calms a man’s fears and lets him see clearly.
Unfortunately the details were all quite hopeless this time. Two days ago the first invasion party was sighted: a group of sophisticated alien warships descending out of high warp. Panic ensued. It had been centuries since his people had seen or heard of any other intelligent species. Of course he was familiar with the concept of technology, but like all the human empires, he possessed none of it himself.
What happened next could have been prevented, perhaps, if they had been properly prepared ahead of time. His fleet of wooden triremes may indeed have been primitive, but in the vacuum of space they could fire a projectile as far as the aliens; plus with the magnetic sheath surrounding the ether streams his vessels were invulnerable to energy weapons. His ships were the last thing he was worried about: at last count they were all quite safe.
But his worlds were a different manner. All three of the Persian moons: Ganeymede, Europa, and Callisto, had been quickly occupied by the Klaron cruiserships. There were no mass killings—for that he was grateful—but the conquest was complete. The irony of it all was that his ships were still intact. Now they were trapped in orbit of IO, the last major moon, a desolate land where only mushrooms grew and sulfur dioxide snow spewed out of vents in the bedrock making it difficult to breathe. It was hardly the kind of place where one could dig in and hold out. The few thousand Mayans who lived on the surface depended on trade for their survival.
Demetrius rapped on the door with his bony knuckles. The hollow echo reminded the king of the emptiness of space. How alien spaceships survived out there, outside the boundaries of the slipstreams, was a mystery to him. He knew they must have been traveling for many years to get here from another star system.
“Enter the notable Alexander of Silerna, commander of his majesty’s fleet.”
The commander bowed and paid homage, smacking the clean part of the floor with his fierce looking mouth. He raised himself quickly to his knees and stood up in a single balanced movement.
“My Lord, I bring the entire fleet: 1,983 full sized combat triremes with 400 supply ships. The mid-sized galleys have been left behind, but twenty stealth spy clippers are at your disposal.”
“Thank you commander.” The emperor smiled slightly. “You have been of much help to me. Tell me, is there any word from the enemy. Do we know what they want?”
“Yes.” The bearded general nodded grimly. “They call themselves the Klarons. They come from a system called Rigel. They have made demands that you surrender immediately and turn over all governing authority. In turn they will let us live.”
“And the fleet?”
“They want to keep the fleet in tact, and the army as well. They do not view us as a threat. They wish for our help against the Romans.”
The emperor’s eyes flashed quickly. This was an unexpected development. Apparently the enemy had good intelligence. They had doubtlessly scoped out the system before their invasion. They had a plan for taking it over.
“Do they know about Earth?” asked the king.
“They did not mention it.”
“Interesting. Perhaps they don’t. Of course I would love to help them attack Mars, but Earth….”
“But my Lord, you are not honestly considering their proposal? We could fight them. We still have the fleet, and the ether streams. We could bombard their landing parties from orbit.”
“And risk the destruction of our own homes? Must I remind you, general, that our women and children are down there? How do you suggest our culture can survive if these creatures destroy them.”
“I do not know sir.”
“That’s right Alexander. That’s why I’m your king.”
“So is this your official choice?”
The king showed no sign of change. His features displayed the same delicate smile he had worn all day. His lips uttered two words:
“We surrender!”
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Space Crusaders is a work in progress, based on my epic poem The SkyPath Crusade. I never finished this serial becuase it proved harder to write than I thought. However, I did start a new serial in smaller, bite-sized chunks posted daily. Click here to read the new Space Crusaders.
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