Free Battle Beyond Earth: Resurrection by Nick S. Thomas

no. That they existed? Yes."
    Many in the room gasped at the response. The room then erupted into a multitude of frenzied arguments. Jones rubbed his sore head as he felt it continue to throb, though he wondered how much the current meeting was to blame for that. He could see he was no longer needed. He got up and tried to make his way out quietly while the argument ensued, but as he got a few paces from his chair, he heard the President bellow.
    "Lieutenant Jones!"
    He stopped dead, and the room fell silent again. Now he felt like a fool, so he simply stood where he had stopped and turned to face the President.
    "Lieutenant. We can argue this position for many more hours, but let's hear it from you. A man who was on the ground and with firsthand experience during both engagements. What would you do in our position? Given the combined power of the League of Races, how would you tackle this problem?"
    "Problem, Sir?"
    "What would you call it?"
    "Pandora’s Box, Sir. A powder keg...a disaster."
    The President grimaced at every one of his words. It was the sort of plain speaking language that simply didn't get used in his world of politics.
    "Okay, where would you go from here?"
    "Sir. I would look to our history. We cannot leave such a dire threat to continue to exist. If a threat exists, it must be dealt with. We need more ships, better weapons, and the soldiers to wield them. We must gear up for war, and ensure we hit this with everything we can before our chance is gone."
    "War? Is that your only answer to a problem?" Bylund asked. He turned to the President, "Mr President, you cannot ask a fighting man to make a choice between peace and war, for he is only invested in one of those options."
    Isaacs ignored the Minister and turned to Irala who still seemed to have more to offer.
    "Governor, do you support the Lieutenant's appraisal of the situation?"
    Irala nodded. "If our records are correct, it is the Morohta who you have encountered; an ancient race that scoured the universe and destroyed all who they met. They will come for us, and they will mercilessly destroy everything in their path."
    Everyone in the room was trying to take in what Irala had just said, and Isaacs opened his mouth to speak when two Cholan advisors rushed into the room and to the side of their representative, Ambassador Ucan. Jones almost laughed at the sight of the Cholans darting across the room. They looked like children that were simply out of proportion and then dressed up to be adults. They all knew it must be important for them to barge in, and waited on Ucan to share whatever vital information was with them.
    Finally, the Cholan Ambassador stood up. He was as short as the rest of them and wore a dark red suit that was more of Earth fashion than his own people. He looked distraught and unable to frame his words.
    "What is it, Ambassador?" Isaacs asked.
    "I...I have just received confirmed reports that our frontier colony of Coba has come under attack, and we have lost contact."
    "Attacked? By who?"
    "One of our ships managed to transmit this signal before it was destroyed."
    Ucan held out a small remote control and pressed a key that projected a screen. They were looking at a vividly coloured nebula, and lights flashed within it like a storm. The lights grew brighter, and the view began to clear. They could just make out the outline of a ship, one that Jones was now all too familiar with.
    "No," he whispered to himself, feeling his whole body go rigid with fear.
    The weapon system of the alien ship fired a burst of light towards the video source, and the signal was lost.
    "It's begun," said Jafar.
    Isaacs turned to Irala for answers.
    "You seem to know a whole lot more about this new race, so tell us, what should we do?"
    "Not a new race, but a very old one. There is not a place in the universe you can go that they will not find you. Fight or die."
    "Fight?" Isaacs asked in amazement, "We haven't had to fight a real war in generations. We don't