GENESIS - THE BEGINNING. Book 1

CHAPTER 3 ... The Annular

They came in their tens of hundreds.

Single craft that buzzed about a disturbed hornets' nest.

Two mother ships disgorged their young in a constant stream that broke up into groups of 100 strong. Destroyers circled the mother ships and sniffed about like hunting dogs protected by their own torpedo boats.

A second group of destroyers passed and headed for the killing grounds.

The mother ship's young, all 4000 of them, surrounded the destroyers.

Death approached the Galactic Empire on wings of grayvite.

***

Claxons resounded throughout the aircraft carrier Prolit.

BATTLESTATIONS. BATTLESTATIONS.

THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

ALL PERSONEL ARE TO REPORT TO THEIR POSTS.

THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

ALL PERSONEL TO THEIR POSTS.

BATTLESTATIONS. BATTLESTATIONS.

Panic.

Fighter crews ran pell-mell to their stations while dragging on flight suits or over-alls. Some hopped about trying to get boots on. Some tripped over bootlaces or discovered that the wrong boot was on the wrong foot but ignored it and stumbled on. The sirens forced them to move faster. Gun crews fared no better. Each knew what to do, where to be.

Two more aircraft carriers, the Perimeter and the Empire, ten thousand kilometers apart, were under duplicate conditions. They disgorged their Bulldog fighter craft simultaneously.

Five hundred heavily laden fighter craft per aircraft carrier sped towards the enemy from three diverse angles.

"This is Vulture leader. Vulture pack, break to heading one-five-zero-hotel-three-four on my mark.... Mark."

25 Bulldogs broke away from the pack.

"Eagle leader...Eagle pack break to heading...." More groups broke away and spread out to designated positions.

Hundreds of fighters jockeyed for position.

Training, training and more training had perfected this horseshoe attack formation. Both 'tips' of the horseshoe were almost two thousand kilometers apart.

The twin-seater Bulldogs flew on.

***

"Admiral on the Bridge. Bridge over to the Admiral."

"Thank you, Mr. Quiney. What do we have?" Admiral Isak Blair asked. 42 years old and with a slight stoop to his shoulders, he was the youngest admiral ever in the Empire's navy. The youngest and the grayest. Almost overnight, his dark brown hair had turned gray.

The timing could be traced back to the moment that Emperor Katya Berotivich kicked out his old and pompous predecessor.

Admiral Isak Blair, wracked with fear and self-doubt, took three days to come to the decision that the Empire's safety rested on his shoulders. Billions of lives depended on every decision he made. It took three days of self-searching and coming to terms with his own weaknesses and fears. He had to trust the faith his Emperor had in him and had to trust in himself.