Through the Abyss

by Daniel Litchfield

  A shadow crept across the floor toward the bed, triggering sensors imbedded into the floor. Remarkably, the panicking sensors failed to make a sound or alert the guards or the room’s defensive weapon platforms. It slid past two roaming Personal Protective Droids, causing them to turn and pause momentarily in acknowledgment of the entity before resuming their protection patterns.

  As the black fog approached, holographic images from on open portable work station on the bed started to glitch and distort. The closer the fog got, the more dramatically the electronics within and on the bed glitched. After eleven seconds of technology frantically begging for mercy, the unfolding chaos brought the slumbering man to his senses. The second his eyes opened, the entire room shut down, drowning the luxurious suite in abysmal silence.

  Too late.

  The shadow hovered above his face like a swirling cloud of ever imploding black ash. Watching in silence as the lifeless shape slowly morphed into two cabernet eyes surrounded by an unnatural red and gold afterglow, a tingle of agitation grew within the human waiting for the presence to make a move. Finally, the eyes broke the Master Suite’s perfect silence with a domineering voice that perfectly matched its original swirling cloud.

  “The time has come. The Guardian Response Program has been awoken.” The almost sexless tone boasted of untold wisdom and blind arrogance.

  “Are you sure? How do you know?” The man responded, quickly becoming enthralled in all of the possibilities if it was true.

  “You know exactly how! And you also know the certainty with which I speak! Don’t forget who I am and what I am giving you!”

  Unperturbed, “Be careful yourself. I’m your only shot and you know it.”

  The eyes pushed backwards in disgust as it contemplated ending the pathetic human’s life for a fleeting moment. Deciding to fight another day, the man threw up a white flag. “You’re right, I should know by now. Won’t happen again. That being said, do we start so soon, considering?”

  “If you don’t take the risk and move now, then you are willingly letting your fear stand in MY way. I simply cannot get behind someone like that, so choose your next words carefully Emperor.”

  A powerful surge of guilt swept over the man; bringing with it an evil nausea and the stench of burning sulfur so strong his eyes stung. Letting the moment pass, he quickly swallowed his pride and regained his bearings. One final short sigh was all the time the Emperor needed to make his decision. “So be it. Initiate Phase One.”

  Without saying another word, the eyes vanished, leaving behind a slowly dissipating version of its former self. Still wrought with unease, the man rolled over and tried to force what he had just done out of his mind.

  Three hours of blissful unconsciousness passed by for Harreng before a piercing odor stabbed at his semi-conscious brain looking for a way in. Relenting to the onslaught, his recovering brain allowed the scent to register. His first breath as a conscious human being was a rude awaking. Adrenaline kicked in and started the rebooting process when his brain fully realized what was burning a hole in his naval cavity. The pungent smell of deep space interacting with lubricant fumes and air molecules filled his lungs.

  Harreng’s eyes revealed a lightless environment apart from a bluish hue behind him. Several small boxes and tarps meant to cover exposed crates were piled on top of him, creating a chamber that had preserved his body heat. “Costell, what happened?” he half mumbled aloud while rubbing the knot on the back of his head. The only response was the sound of his heart throbbing and a strange ringing that seemed to be growing in intensity.

  Every little movement sent explosives off in his head and aching joints, forcing him to move slowly and deliberately. “Costell, are you there?” he asked louder without success. Harreng struggled to stay calm as he tried to get the tarps and boxes off of him. “Calm down. Calm down. Everything is ok,” He repeated to himself.

  Standing to his feet and his senses, Harreng realized that he was shivering uncontrollably. The air was freezing, which felt great on his swollen head but the rest of his body protested with trillions of tiny needles stabbing at any exposed skin. Recognizing the blue tint behind him, Harreng swiveled his body to face the only source of light he could see.

  SMACK!

  Harreng stretched out with his hand and felt a wall directly before him. Cursing under his breath, he began to reach all around him until he realized that he was standing between two large canisters and what could only be described as an avalanche of untied cargo. With his hands following the lines on the large box in front of him, he was able to slip out into a brighter but much colder compartment.

  THUNK!

  Harreng collapsed to the ground from the soul numbing cold. As he lay in the fetal position feeling the life flee his quickly freezing body, he noticed what looked like the reflective surface found on uniforms like Costell’s. Refusing to go before finding out with whom he would be sharing a grave, Harreng forced his body a few feet closer to the reflection to get a better view.

  “Costell? Is that you?” The voice cracking from the numbing temperatures. With his pupils adjusted the best they could, he gave everything he had to focus and find anything distinguishable.

  “I knew it,” Harreng’s depressed voice barely escaped his lungs.

  Operative Costell had been violently thrown against the wall along with what looked like a million broken pieces of deep space probes. His ragged face was so grotesquely contorted by the flying debris that he was almost beyond recognition. Only the “Costell” name plate on the uniform gave away his identity.

  Harreng averted his gaze from the nauseating site only to see the all too familiar shape of a Cargo Transport’s rear most window. The Access Door’s sealant had burst and was letting air escape into the vacuum of space while inviting its icy replacement. Had his brain not been struggling to maintain a core body temperature, it would have noticed a remarkably beautiful planet. Deep blue oceans filled with life giving water, large land masses covered in vegetation, and wisps of pure white clouds indicating a healthy atmosphere filled the window. The planet loomed in the distance, a safe haven so close yet so far away.

  The young NCO innocently missed the blatant impossibility looking at him through the window. If he had, Harreng would have finally realized the entire reason for his miserable deployment, finding Earth before their enemy. Instead, he embraced the numbness after one last spark of consciousness. “Guess we now know that it would’ve burst during mission, huh buddy? That’s alright though, it’ll buff out… it’ll buff out.”

  PART ONE:

  The Promise to be standing at the beginning of the end

  Chapter 1:

  Emperor Indus’s Revenge

  Emperor Lesos N. Natron burst into the Bridge like a bowling ball, still wrestling with a stubborn outer garment that was not wanting to fit over his head. After a slightly embarrassing two seconds, the shirt succumbed and allowed him to get his bearings. Looking around at the blank stares of crew members who hadn’t seen their Emperor since entering jump sequence twenty-two hours ago, Lesos puffed up his chest and strode into the lion’s den.

  Located in the middle of the Ship and surrounded by armor plating, the Bridge was designed to be the most difficult part of any Fleet Vessel to destroy. Additionally, as the brain of the Fleet Vessel, it was designed to maintain functionality despite the damage sustained to the superstructure around it. The Bridge had to be the most secure, cohesive, and controlled environment in the Ship for it to have any chance of survival in combat. Guide and Deliver, the unfortunate Cruiser hosting Emperor Lesos, was no different.

  The Bridge’s floor plan had an octagon shape with seventy-foot flat ends for the front and back of the room, with its only entrance located left of the center of the flat back wall. Immediately to the right of the doorway was an indentation where the most secure and powerful communications equipment was located. Just outside the indention was a five hundred square foot open floor with two oversized work stations s
itting parallel to each other on the edge of the large square. This area was used by personnel who needed to utilize the systems for highly secure or extremely long-distance communications.

  Long distance communication was tricky and required incredibly intricate machinery. To achieve the feat, the message was downloaded and attached to non-baryonic particles able to receive and hold information. Once downloaded, the particles were then attached to a larger non-baryonic structure able to withstand prodigious pressure and heat while simultaneously sustaining net negative mass. Thanks to its versatility, the negative mass structure was durable enough to endure astronomical speeds. Combined with the structure’s negative energy’s effects on space around it, information sent within fifteen million light years reached its destination instantaneously.

  Just beyond and to the right of the communications square were the primary diagnostic systems for the Cruiser. They relayed the Ship’s current data and analytic systems to the Engineering Section’s Bridge team; where they then dispersed guidance to the engineers at ground level who were spread across the Fleet Vessel. Continuing along the right-hand side was the navigation section, which at times had to work closely with the engineering team during combat or close quarters maneuvering.

  Next to the Navigators on the flat front wall was the Ship’s piloting team. Two command chairs were positioned with a shared oversized work station. Another command chair sat ten yards directly behind them and in an elevated position. The front oversized work station had twice the operating capacity than its standard counterparts, giving the Helmsman and Primary Aviator autonomy while also being able to interact seamlessly with the other sections in the Bridge. Behind them, and even more elevated, was the Ship Captain’s command chair and work station, which had oversight of the entire operation.

  In the center of the Bridge, directly behind the Captain, was the primary data display. Here, the engineering, navigation, diagnostic, and large-scale tracking worlds collided to represent pin point accurate information in a multitude of ways through three dimensional images. The two thousand square foot data display brought to life what the darkness of space or the fog of war tried to keep hidden. Guide and Deliver’s Executive Officer and Senior Noncommissioned Officer had two command chairs sitting on the outer edge of the data display. They worked across from the Primary Staff and in close proximity to the Captain on their right, allowing the entire team to work together without relying too much on technology for internal communication.

  The Senior Leaders, who made up Guide and Deliver’s Primary Staff, maintained their work stations to the left of the primary data display. Five Primary Staff sections, each with an Officer in Charge, at least one Junior Officer in support, three Noncommissioned Officers, and three lower Enlisted team members worked out of the cramped area. The various sections were walled off to ensure that sensitive information did not get leaked unnecessarily as it criss crossed their domain. Because they were built entirely out of interactive equipment, monitors, and small projection systems, every square inch of the walls could be manipulated depending on the situation. Similar material made up most of the Bridge’s actual walls, ceilings, and floor as well. During combat, the Bridge could turn into a giant window, providing the crew a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the Ship’s immediate surroundings.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Emperor Lesos said to himself in disbelief after finally sitting down in his chair. As the most senior member on board and according to Natron Military Regulations, the Emperor had to assume command of the Ship as the Senior Officer, sending the actual Captain to fill a vacancy on another Fleet Vessel.

  Lesos studied every monitor in his line of site in utter disgust. He watched the daunting image of seven huge Baikal Super Capital Ships, along with another one nearly twice as large, exiting out of their jump sequences. Lesos’s group of five slower, and vastly outsized retrofitted Cruisers looked like goldfish getting surrounded by great white sharks. Adding to the already insurmountable odds was the fact that the Cruisers were outfitted for a Diplomatic Mission and were therefore stripped of eighty-five percent of their weapon platforms to ensure they maintained a neutral status.

  Emperor Lesos displayed a confidence obtained by surviving countless fierce struggles. He was just under six feet tall and weighed two hundred and ten pounds of hard earned, solid muscle. Salt and pepper stubble accentuated a cleft chin and masculine jaw line. He had an unusual combination of compassion and brilliance. At one time, his acute guidance redirected the Natron Empire and Military from the brink of doom. Years of living in constant fear of invasion had noticeably deepened the lines on his face.

  Lesos looked at the monitors with his quiet teal eyes, praying his son was ready. The ongoing conflicts between the two Empires over fringe territories and densely populated systems was bringing both Empires to the brink of the first outright Galactic Group War in the last eleven thousand years. More importantly, the Baikal Empire’s recent loss to Lesos’s Muscarin System had forced Emperor Indus B. Baikal to swallow his pride and take a step back.

  Guerrilla fighters and mercenaries, backed with Baikal equipment, were no longer cutting it. Not only did he lose two entire Combat Team’s worth of Fleet Vessels at the Muscarin System, but the loss instantly stirred dissent on the home front. Hoping to kill three birds with one stone, Indus brought up the idea of peace negotiations to prevent further civil unrest while regathering his forces at a hidden location in preparation for a strike to the jugular.

  Not falling for Indus’s games, Emperor Lesos caught the act early, found the bulk of Indus’s Fleets, and pinged Indus as a taunt to let him know that he was watching. Simultaneously, the Natron Emperor was able to reposition his own forces under complete secrecy, further infuriating Emperor Indus. With his disguise blown, Indus pulled his forces from the border as a gesture that his requested peace talks were now genuine.

  With their enemy back inside its own borders, a minimal thirteen day jump to return, Emperor Lesos’s Staff begged him to visit the people of the Casseopian Solar System. The bountiful system housed two habitable planets and four habitable moons with near perfect gravity and sun exposure. It sat on the outer edge of Lesos’s territory and was one of the closest star systems to the Baikal Empire. Having received the worst of the recent fighting, the Casseopian Region was the prime place for the Natron Emperor to portray his loyalty and love for his people while also demonstrating his trust in the peace talks with Emperor Indus.

  “Sentago! How can I get briefed that all Baikal Fleet Vessels are at least thirteen days away yet we’re currently starring down the barrels of eight of their biggest Ships?!” Lesos words rang out with justified frustration.

  Sentago was relatively short for a Natron civilian and unfortunately couldn’t make up for his height with impressive physical features. Simply put, he was just average. However, he remained unmatched in foreign diplomacy and empirical strategy. Having risen from the lowest enlisted rank after a miserably poor childhood, his different outlook on life, coupled with an intelligence that rivaled his Emperor’s, was a great counterbalance to Lesos’s Staff.

  Empirical Admiral Sentago hesitantly stepped over to his disheveled Emperor. Lesos’s once bold stature was now all but gone. With his hands behind his head gripping his hair in distress, Lesos pivoted in his chair to face his Secretary of State and close friend. Without even attempting to answer Lesos’s questions, “Sir, is there any way I can convince you to go back to the mustering point? We have a shuttle in the lower bay retrofitted with a long-distance jump drive. It’s old as sin, but she’s good to go. If you leave now, it’ll be close, but you should make it out in time.” The words were as sincere as Lesos had ever heard from his friend.

  After a few moments of thoughtful silence, Lesos resolutely looked at Sentago and said, “I will not abandon my crew and civilians on board. Besides, Indus would be absolutely mad to actually attack a verified diplomatic team unable to defend themselves.”

  Sentag
o momentarily hung his head and drew a deep breath through his nose, “Sir, they have already begun live targeting our Ships. And with this ridiculous amount of overkill on firepower, at this point, they’re just playing with us until the order is given.” The Admiral’s voice wreaked with the seriousness of the dire situation.

  Somehow already knowing his enemy’s intent the second he was alerted, the Emperor slightly swayed his head from side to side with closed eyes in cynical disbelief. The urge to let disappointment and anger take control was a subconscious battle manifesting itself in Lesos’s two glistening tear ducts. Doing all they could to hold up the dam, they said the words Lesos so desperately wanted to scream in Sentago’s face.

  “Sir, please. We have no contact teams on board, no means of self defense, or armor for you. But to be completely honest, for the first time in my service to you, I can no longer guarantee your survival, let alone safety. There is no reason for anyone not to make it out of here.”

  Emperor Lesos opened his eyes and leaned in so that only his Secretary of State could hear him. “Listen Sentago, we put ourselves in this mess. In fact, I came here, unprotected, based on your advice; all so your side operation wouldn’t get unnecessary attention,” He paused to let the words sink in. Leaning back into his original seated position and reigning back a vicious tone yearning to escape, Lesos continued, “Look, I’m not saying you’re responsible for any of this; because I made the final decision. All of the information pointed toward your advice and even our scout teams cleared it. I just want to remind you to be more certain with whom we trust critical information. As you can see, this will be a rough lesson to learn the hard way, but I bet you won’t make the same mistake twice.” Admiral Sentago stared blankly at his Emperor, filled with an unimaginable sense of defeat knowing that he had truly failed the person he devoted his entire life to protect.