The Alorian Wars Box Set

by Drew Avera

  "Well, shit," he said, his gruff voice making Ilium realize the captain had just woken up from a deep sleep. "Set defensive posture," he ordered.

  "Aye, sir," Ensign Stavis said as her fingers scrawled across the console. Ilium watched as the woman muttered into her microphone, alerting the other departments of what was about to take place. If they had to jump, then the sudden increase in thrust would toss the crew around without mercy. Ilium hoped it would not come to that as the bridge settled into a dim blue lighting while defensive posture was set. Ilium knew combat control was on high alert and they were ready for things to shake down. After the defeat of the Shiveian fleet, why wouldn't they be? He was glad to have a capable crew, but that didn't help his disappointment in himself for not knowing what to do. When he had taken control of his last ship, he had let the weapons department take control of arming the torpedoes in case there was an escalation in the situation at hand. Is that necessary now? he wondered. It wasn't moving, but there was something unsettling about the quiet ship in the distance, hidden in the darkness and camouflaged with a fake transponder code. What if we hadn't seen it? They could have attacked us without our knowing.

  "What's our status?" the captain asked. He was pacing the bridge and rubbing his eyes. Ilium watched as the older man in command of the most advanced war vessel in the navy went about his business. Captain Crexon was the best mentor in the navy Ilium had, and he felt a kinship to the man despite having known him for only a few short weeks.

  "Torpedoes are manned, Sir," Ensign Stavis said. "Combat control is ready to initiate point defense cannons if necessary and the damage control teams are standing by for casualties, Sir."

  "Very well. Thank you, Ensign Stavis."

  Captain Crexon walked over to Ilium, leaning to whisper in his ear. "This is what we've been training for," he said. Ilium looked at him, silently grateful that the captain had not left all the responsibility on him. "It's going to be just like last time. We kicked their ass last time, and this time will be no different. Watch and take notes." Captain Crexon gave a knowing nod to Ilium before turning back to face the bridge.

  "Yes, sir," Ilium said. There was nothing else he could think of to say. He felt disappointed that he was afraid and lacked confidence that he could properly lead the crew into battle. What was worse was wondering if Crexon silently held that against him. Ilium didn't like admitting that fear to himself, but ever since the mutiny on his last ship, he felt he had lost a part of himself. Some of the dark feelings that went through his mind had faded, but in their place was a version of himself that wasn't as confident as before. He was more cautious now and hoped that was a good thing.

  "I won't wait for these assholes to fire," the captain said. "Fire a warning shot across their bow and let's see what these guys are made of."

  "Yes, sir," Ensign Stavis said from her console. Ilium watched as the monitor illuminated red, showing that all weapons were armed and a target was locked. "Ready to fire the torpedo, sir."

  "Let her go," Captain Crexon ordered.

  "Torpedo launched."

  Ilium watched the small dot on the screen move towards the image of the ship. The vast distance between the ships would mean it would be a long wait before impact; the fact that the ship was doing nothing after the shot was fired made him wonder how they would respond to an attack. "Sir, shouldn't their PDC's be firing?"

  "Our torpedo is in range, but if they're about to launch an offensive, they may wait."

  Ilium's eyes narrowed at the monitor, the torpedo flying closer and closer to the combatant ship. At any moment, the PDC's will be firing, he thought. But something else happened, something no one on the bridge of the King Slayer had ever seen before. "What the fuck?" Before impact, the torpedo exploded, but no PDC's were fired. It appeared to Ilium, and perhaps everyone else on the bridge, that the ship had some sort of invisible shield protecting it. "I thought that kind of shielding technology didn't exist," Ilium said under his breath.

  "It's not supposed to," Captain Crexon said. "But if it does, then let's not let that keep us from breaching her hull. Ensign Stavis, launch everything we've got at the son of a bitch."

  "Aye aye, sir."

  Ilium watched as numerous torpedo tubes opened and fired on the enemy craft. It looked like a hailstorm of projectiles screeching towards the silent vessel. He leaned forward, trying to determine the point of impact for the dozens of torpedoes they had fired. One by one, the torpedoes erupted before reaching the hull of the other ship. But this time, the ship responded.

  "We have incoming, Sir," Lieutenant Teirs said. Ilium noted the fear her voice, which echoed his own. "Estimated time of impact is thirty seconds."

  Their torpedoes are much faster than ours.

  "Activate the PDC's," Captain replied.

  "Already activated, Sir," she said.

  "They won't make it past our PDC's," he said. But to Ilium's ears it didn't sound like the degree of confidence he was hoping for. All of them watched, arms crossed, as the enemy torpedo approached. Ilium felt the deck beneath him stutter as the PDC's fired, and the torpedo exploded before making contact. There was an audible sigh of relief immediately followed by an exasperating gasp as the enemy ship fired enough torpedoes towards them that they could not make out the exact number, the display simply looking like a white mass coming towards them at an extremely high rate.

  "Sir! There are too many," Lieutenant Teirs said.

  Captain lurched forward, grabbing the monitor and pulling it towards him, his eyes wide with fear. "Get us the hell out of here," he ordered. "Burn like hell because if these torpedoes reach us we're dead."

  "Yes, sir," Ensign Stavis said. Ilium watched as the lieutenant and ensign worked together, their hands flying over the consoles to control the ship.

  The King Slayer was equipped with jumping capability. But to we have enough time? Ilium wondered. "Sir, what do you want me to do?" It was a question that displayed Ilium's weakness in a way that made him feel ashamed. A real executive officer would know what to do, he thought.

  "Get your ass strapped in," Captain Crexon replied. "This will be a hell of a ride."

  Ilium took the nearest seat and pulled the straps over his shoulders, buckling them into place. He held onto the straps with a white-knuckled grip. He felt the rumbling of the ship as it accelerated, the g-forces pressing his body against the seat. He wondered what the rest of the crew must be experiencing since Captain Crexon had made no announcement about what was happening. He could only assume there would be at least a few injuries. Better to be injured than dead, he thought.

  "Captain, ten seconds to impact," Lieutenant Teirs said.

  "Are we ready to jump yet?" The captain wasn't strapped in. Instead, he was holding onto the monitor with his legs planted to the deck at a wide stance. Ilium wondered if it would make any difference what the captain did to brace himself, or if he would be sent crashing into the bulkhead as the ship accelerated.

  "Just a few more seconds, Sir," Ensign Stavis responded. Ilium watched the monitor, noting that the massive torpedoes were within kill range. If one was to detonate, it would set off a chain reaction and there was no way the King Slayer would be able to survive the explosive concussion. "We're ready to go, Sir." Her words would be a relief if we weren't seconds from annihilation, Ilium thought.

  "Do it!"

  The ship shuddered beneath Ilium, he had no idea where they were going, but he could only hope it was somewhere out of danger. He looked up in time to see Captain Crexon being thrown from the middle of the bridge into the bulkhead several feet away. The lights dimmed, and the steel structure groaned under the pressure of jumping from one point in space to another. He could hear the groans and cries of the others on the bridge and he knew that it was being echoed throughout the ship as sailors were most likely being tossed against the steel bulkheads as well. Ilium found it hard to catch his breath, the pressure on his chest suffocating him as if he were being crushed by an invisible creature. He tried
to keep his eyes open, to stay awake to see what was happening, but his heavy eyelids soon closed as the world around him fell into darkness.

  2

  Hespha

  The memorial is beautiful, Hespha thought as she stood next to T’anoi's brother. Both had tears in their eyes, moist streaks running down their faces chilled by the frigid air blowing past them. She would not have thought after many years together it would've come to this, but as she looked at T’anoi's dead body she was reminded of the high cost of failure. It wasn't T’anoi's fault that they had failed, but it was his fault that she was forced to act in such a manner. Death before dishonor was a notion taught to her by her deceased father. As a young girl, she watched as dishonor crippled her father to the point he felt forced to take his own life. During that time, she swore she would never allow dishonor to claim her in such a way. It was the only promise she made to herself that she had kept so far, and that truth made her stomach turn. If only there was another way.

  "Can you believe how many people are here?" T’anoi's brother Ka’Hor’al whispered. He stood behind her, his warm breath nuzzling her neck as he exhaled in clouded puffs. She loved him as she had once loved T’anoi, but this was a relationship forged by necessity, and romance was as scarce as life was to T’anoi now.

  Without turning to face him she said, "He was loved by many, but love changes like the wind." Her words echoed her own thoughts about how she felt about T’anoi and the dissolving of their relationship over time. T’anoi was a kind soul, but he was also selfish, and the tunnel-vision view he had of the ever-expanding world caused him to think only about himself and never how his actions affected those around him. As Hespha looked around her, she noticed the tear-streaked faces of those closest to her. Some were unfamiliar, but others were part of the assembly that she now controlled. As second-in-command, Hespha had the burden of responsibility to maintain the mission that her organization initially set out. CERCO was more than just a scientific endeavor; it was a political force, a shadow looming over the expanding empire, and one that would seize control of the territories that Greshia consumed in her struggle for superiority.

  Ka’Hor’al shivered next to her as a stiff wind cut through the crowd. "I can hardly hear the minister from here," he said.

  "I honestly haven't even been paying attention," she replied. "My mind has been wandering for days now. I don't know how to get into Edon’s favor."

  "With T’anoi gone, perhaps you will be more persuasive considering we see the world the same way Edon does."

  He has a point, she thought as she wrapped her arms tighter around her body to fight away the cold. It was futile. The temperature was harsh, the coldness coursing through her body, and her guilt was almost too much to overcome. Just stick to the plan, she thought. It doesn't matter, whatever has happened is done and I can only control what happens in the future by not damning myself about the past. "I wouldn't be so sure that we're not going to have an uphill battle ahead of us." She felt his hand as he placed it on her shoulder.

  "Wherever you go, I go."

  It’s a nice sentiment, but how far can I trust someone who would murder his own brother? "And where exactly do you think I'm going to go?" she asked.

  He leaned closer to her, his lips inches from her ear. "Something tells me you'll be seated on a throne overlooking this entire damned galaxy."

  His words burned at her conscience. She had no ambition for sitting on a throne. The only thing she wanted was to live in a galaxy free of fear and free of the looming threat that Greshia would soon devour them into their empire. But he was right about one thing: someone was looking down at the galaxy from a seat of power, and if they had any hope at all, then CERCO needed to level the playing field. How they got to that point would ultimately be inconsequential. Survival was the only measure of success worth noting.

  "I want to thank everyone for coming out," the minister said, his voice projecting louder than before. His eyes cut towards Hespha and Ka’Hor’al, a knowing smirk on his face telling Hespha all she needed to know, that the minister knew she was there in person but not mentally. What do I care, she thought, I don't believe in any higher power; I'm just here because it is expected of me.

  As the crowd dispersed, the minister stepped towards Hespha and Ka’Hor’al, the gait of his steps showing that he favored his left. It's always nice to identify weaknesses, she thought. "It was a lovely memorial, Minister," Hespha said. Ka’Hor’al stepped forward, placing himself between the minister and Hespha.

  The minister smiled as he extended his hand towards Ka’Hor’al. "I'm so glad that you thought so," he said. "From my vantage point it did not appear that you are paying attention, but I'm sure I could be mistaken."

  Hespha watched as Ka’Hor’al took hold of the minister's hand, gripping it tightly. "I'm sorry, minister. We've been under a lot of stress since T’anoi's death; I am sure you can understand that."

  "Of course," he said. His smile led Hespha to believe that he was lying, that he knew something that he wanted to hold over their heads. Hespha knew it was all bullshit, that he had nothing on them. If anything, T’anoi's death could be blamed on any number of disillusioned people in his life. Besides, Hespha had insured only certain people had seen his body after his death.

  "What are your plans for this afternoon, Minister?" Hespha asked.

  "I have none," he replied.

  "Would you like to join us for lunch?" Ka’Hor’al eyed her warily, but she knew the minister's reply before it left his lips.

  "No, thank you. I don't tend to dine with politicians," he said, not trying to hide the disdain his voice.

  Hespha fought the urge to slap her hand across his face, but she knew that was his goal, to get under her skin and force her to act out. She had seen this type before, how they manipulate people and force them to do things out of character. She would be damned if she fell for that.

  "We are not politicians, Minister," Ka’Hor’al said. Hespha could tell he was having a hard time controlling the tone of his voice, but he did not raise it, which was a good thing considering the crowd.

  The minister smiled. "I understand, son, that your scientific advances have thrust your organization into a political realm that none of us have ever wondered going to. With all due respect, your actions are going to alert the Greshian Empire of our vast resources. How do you propose that we defend ourselves against such actions?" the man looked at them expectantly.

  Hespha fought the grin threatening to stretch upon her face. He was trying to lead her to a confession of guilt, that she had nothing to feel guilty about when it came to protecting their home. "I believe that what we're trying to do is in the best interests of our society, minister," she said. There was sincerity in her voice that was not faked, but also dread at the idea she could be deceiving herself.

  "I'm sure you believe that," he said with a tinge of sarcasm. "But I'm not sure you could convince the rest of us of your good intentions."

  Hespha felt as if her skin was about the crawl off her body. It wasn't easy being the leader of an organization shrouded in mystery, but she had a duty to uphold.

  "We appreciate your time, Minister, but we have other obligations," Ka’Hor’al said. Hespha felt herself relax as Ka’Hor’al took her by the arm and led her away from the minister. There was silence between them, but the glare in his eyes as he stared them down said more than enough to know what he was thinking from Hespha's point of view.

  "I can't stand that man," she said. Hespha's heart beat rapidly in her chest as she inhaled deeply, trying to calm herself down. "It's people like that that will send me to an early grave." Saying that made her thoughts drift to T’anoi, and she stared at the marble coffin his body lay in. She fought back the urge to feel regret at what had happened, knowing it was for the greater good, even if no one else could see it.

  "I know what you mean," Ka’Hor’al said. He was still pulling her by the arm even though they were far enough away from the minister to be out of
ear shot. Ka’Hor’al walked fast, causing Hespha to take quicker and shorter steps to keep from falling over.

  "You think we can slow down?" She asked.

  "I just want to get out of here," he replied as they arrived at their vehicle. It was shaped like a sphere and tinted on all sides. It rested on four pads beneath it, but hovered inches from the ground when it moved. Looking at it made her think of T’anoi because it was his design. You aren't the only one, she thought as she looked back at T’anoi's casket. This was more haunting than I thought it would be.

  Ka’Hor’al opened the door to the vehicle and let Hespha in first. The seats were cold as she sat back and made her feel as uncomfortable as the awkward exchange they had with the minister. I hope I never see that man again," she thought.

  Ka’Hor’al entered the vehicle after her and sat across from her. The ball the shape of the vehicle made it feel more confining that she likes. A vibrating sound interrupted the silence and startled her. Ka’Hor’al pulled the com-unit from his pocket and answered, "Yes?" She watched as his brow furrowed while he listened to the person on the other end. Wondering what the call could be about, she sat in patient silence. "I understand," he said. "I'll pass this information along. Thank you." Ka’Hor’al close the device and shoved it back into his pocket. "We found evidence that the weapon still exists."

  "Carista?" Hespha asked. She felt a sense of impatience and anxiety about what he was about to say.

  "More or less," he replied. "What T’anoi didn't tell us was that there was more than one weapon." His words hung in the air as she tried to comprehend how there could be more than one weapon.

  That wasn't how we designed the program, she thought. "I don't understand," she said. "I thought Carista was the only one."

  Ka’Hor’al nodded and adjusted his collar nervously. "That's the thing," he said. "She was the only one, but the one we knew was not the only one."