First Contact Fallout

tech did not lead him to one of those, but opened up a larger door for him that led into a small, but adequately sized room for three, perhaps four Era’tran to work in. There were plush pedestals to lay on as they worked, but Mak’to’ran went right for the central hologram and mentally interfaced with it, bringing up the data network access that would let him see what was going on everywhere else on the planet that was still connected.
When the image of Holloi appeared it was color coded to indicate the status of all cities, outposts, residences, and other infrastructure…and of all the green dots, most were pale green, meaning they were functional but depleted. But it was the giant red blot at one location not far from here that dominated his attention. It was like a wound on the planet, and perhaps a fatal one at that, but actual possession of Holloi still remained mostly in Era’tran claws.
“Zen’zat,” Sol’an asked as Mak’to’ran was getting up to speed. “Is there additional clothing here?”
“Garuva has an extensive wardrobe available for guests. You may use whatever you like.”
“Are you done with this one?” she asked Mak’to’ran.
“Take him.”
“Show me,” she instructed, then left with the Zen’zat to replace her tight bodysuit that was riddled with burn marks. Mario’topa remained patiently at Mak’to’ran’s side for many minutes before the Era’tran finally spoke.
“What are they doing?”
“Who?”
“Our forces. They are poorly countering the assault. The Zak’de’ron have numerous holes in their lines that could be exploited, yet our forces cluster around defensive positions that make no sense.”
“I do not know of current events. The Zor’do was cut off intentionally to make it appear abandoned after the first battle.”
“They are fighting like hatchlings,” Mak’to’ran growled.
“That may be all that are left,” Mario’topa suggested, regretting the words the moment he said them. And the glare the Era’tran gave him didn’t help.
“Garuva wasn’t the only one that fought?”
“No. We hit their assault force with nearly everything we had when they made it to ground. It was said that if they gained a foothold we would lose the war of attrition, so everyone that could fight was volunteering. That’s why I couldn’t find any armor to keep for you. Many wanted to die in that first fight rather than wait for the slaughter thereafter.”
“Has the empire lost its will to win?” Mak’to’ran asked in a whisper, suddenly realizing how bad things must have been across the galaxy for the Era’tran to behave in this manner.
“The Zak’de’ron knew how and where to hit us, and you knew where to hit them. We’ve canceled out and left the empire to the Oso’lon and J’gar. Once they took Itaru, they’ve been slowly mopping up territory and avoiding the big fights while the Zak’de’ron focus on the remaining strongholds. Even if we can hold them here, the Oso’lon can come in to finish the fight whenever they wish. And if we try to evacuate, the J’gar fleets will hunt down any rogue ships. Nothing less than a battlegroup is safe to move around. Commerce to Jamtren has completely stopped. Systems are having to fend for themselves. Very few were able to send aid here when the Zak’de’ron arrived.”
“You see no way to win?”
“Preserving you was our long term hope, but only a handful of individuals even know you are alive. Eldorat was not killed for two days after he attacked you, so we could not let anyone know that any of you had survived. Those reduced to hatchlings were spirited away where they could anonymously begin another life. You were brought here in secret while the Elder Council began the war. Many wanted to die fighting the Zak’de’ron rather than be obliterated by the Veloqueen. Those that remain want to fight, but to an honorable end. They cannot see anything beyond it.”
“Who are the Veloqueen?”
“They are the race Eldorat served,” Mario’topa said warily.
Mak’to’ran considered that for a moment. “I have no memory of that name.”
“Sol’an said you had permanently lost a small portion of your memories. I am glad it did not affect your combat skills.”
“As am I,” he said, turning his attention back to the hologram of the planet and the small panels of selective information he was pulling up rapidly as he multi-tasked with his Sav allowing him to visually and mentally sift through more data in a minute than Mario’topa could get through in an hour.
“Do we have the forces to hold Holloi?”
“Possibly. Their reinforcements have been few in recent years, and their progress slow. They need Jamtren to fall as an example to others, yet they creep on as if they have no further strength to divert here. You said the Oso’lon and J’gar had large, intact fleets?”
“Remaining in their own territory. No counter attack of them was deemed feasible.”
Mak’to’ran shifted to galactic information from the Urrtren, finding large parts of it were incomplete or cut off entirely, but there was still a great deal of information available. Just not a lot of recent information.
“Interesting,” he mewed. “They are worried that the Zak’de’ron will betray them, and are making sure they have the upper hand with regards to fleet strength. The Zak’de’ron are doing all the heavy lifting. I thought you said we nearly wiped them out?”
“The Zak’de’ron race is what I meant. Their servants did not take the early hits. We bypassed them as you outlined. Then they struck us hard in response. When we were fully committed Itaru was taken and the J’gar began poaching the space lanes. After that it became a free for all.”
“Yet the Urrtren remains mostly intact.”
“What does that mean?”
“Intimidation and illusion are both weapons the Zak’de’ron rely upon when they do not have true dominance. They want the rest of the V’kit’no’sat to see Holloi fall. They need them