Ophelia nodded and moved her hands again. “The dropships probably won’t penetrate the protective dome, but we’re not taking any chances.”
A green cloud emanated from the volcano and enveloped the dropships. Their flight grew chaotic as their pilots struggled to retain control, then they fell, crashing to the ground or into the invisible dome that protected the facility.
The ASF fleet engaged the hostile ships at close range. The air thundered with blasts. Adrian watched a Biozi cruiser going down, engulfed in flames. One of the escort destroyers disintegrated, hit by several heavy missiles. The rest of the Biozi fleet was withdrawing, leaving a trail of bioplasma in its wake.
Winsley wouldn’t give the hostile ships the chance to regroup. The Defiance itself engaged them and cut their route to the jump gate, together with two Ares-class heavy cruisers.
The battle was still raging, but it was clear the Alliance had achieved its greatest victory since the Battle of Olympica. Maybe its greatest victory of the entire war. The loss of an Ouroboros-class base ship and a key research facility was a heavy blow to the TGS, not to mention the effect on the morale of its troops.
In an apocalyptic thundering noise, the branches of the colossal tree tore the base ship apart. Yet there was no explosion. The branches froze, sections of the Ouroboros still in their grasp.
“I see poetic justice in this,” Adrian said, contemplating the chunks of the base ship suspended dozens of kilometers above the surface. “The Taar’kuun tried to destroy life on this world and assimilate its biomatter, and now the opposite will happen—the native life form will assimilate their base ship.”
“Can the branches support that much weight?” Talia asked. “Aren’t they going to snap?”
Adrian shook his head. “No, each section of the base ship has its own anti-gravity generator, and they still function. The Ouroboros will feed Chloris for a while, and allow it to recover from the destructive effects of the Taar’kuun’s so-called bioforming. You know the meaning of ouroboros? It’s an ancient symbol representing the cycle of birth and death.”
Ophelia collapsed.
Talia dashed to her, pulling her medical scanner. She examined her for injuries. “She’s exhausted. Physically she’s fine, but I’m reading a neurochemical imbalance. She needs rest and sleep.”
Adrian recovered from the initial shock, pulled a blanket out of his backpack, and gently wrapped it around Ophelia.
“Now that I finally found you, I won’t let anything happen to you,” he whispered, squeezing her hand.
“She’ll be all right.”
Adrian turned his head and saw Ria sitting on the ground next to him, a projection created within his mind. Strands of her strawberry hair glistened under the sunlight streaming from the opening in the ceiling.
“I yearned to find her, be reunited with her, but now…”
“Now you don’t know what to do, how to be a good father. Unconsciously, you still blame yourself for what happened on Olympica. But you must understand that your separation, and everything Ophelia has been through, was part of her life’s journey. One day, parents must let their children go and let them explore the world. Let them find their own path.”
Adrian nodded. “I understand, I think. The Taar’kuun don’t have that problem.”
“Homo sapiens are such a fascinating species.” Ria gave him a contemplative smile. “Full of paradoxes.”
“Do you think we devolved by reverting to the human form? Maybe we were better off living as Taar’kuun.”
“We both know you don’t believe that.”
An announcement on the op channel interrupted Adrian’s dialog with his PA. The admiral ordered all personnel to report back to their ships.
“We have a situation on the Capitol,” Winsley said. “The president and his secretaries have been rescued, but there are still hundreds of armed Earthists on the ship. In addition, the Jamnagar and three other ships are controlled by the Earthists. They refuse to surrender.”
“What do you intend to do, admiral?” Adrian asked.
“The Earthists don’t give us any choice,” Winsley replied. “I must order my marines to board and secure the Capitol. If the Earthists’ ships try to interfere with the boarding operation, I’ll have to order their destruction.”
“You’d be killing thousands of civilians!” Adrian exclaimed. “Surely there is another way. Let me talk to them.”
“They’ve no leader or representative, now that Adisa Multan is dead.”
“Then let me address all of them. The entire fleet.”
For the next few seconds, silence was the only answer. Adrian stood in the middle of the ruins, staring at the ASF ships in the sky. Some of them bore visible traces of battle; holes in their armor, hulls ripped open, smoke coming from fires yet to be contained. The cost of victory was high.
“Fine, you’ll have the floor, doctor,” Winsley finally replied. “There’s no harm in trying a diplomatic solution. But if the Earthists aren’t willing to listen to reason, I’ll have no choice but to order the assault. A dropship will pick you up and take you to the Remembrance.”
“No time for that, admiral. Please send me a signal amplifier. I’ll address the fleet from here.”
A Spearhead slipped through the opening in the ceiling and landed on a flat area among the ancient machinery. Two marines brought a massive cylindrical device that would stabilize the signal and allow Adrian to address the fleet, even from several parsecs. The signal would travel through a wormhole to the Capitol, then be transmitted to every Alliance ship.
The marine specializing in comms activated the holo-cam. Adrian stood straight, chin lifted, and cleared his throat.
“I’m Dr. Adrian Darus, as you probably already know. I’m not addressing you in any official capacity. What I’ll say is just my opinion, nothing more.”
He took a deep breath and continued, “We’re orphans. All of us. We were born and raised in Taar’kuun maturation chambers. We had no parents, no educators, no role models. Then we turned into humans. We downloaded all the available information about our species into our brains, and we thought we knew everything there was to know about humanity.
“We were wrong. Our understanding of the human condition has been challenged continuously. We struggle with unknown, unsettling, paradoxical emotions. We make difficult choices and wrestle with our conscience. We question our decisions; we live with doubt and fear as constant companions. We’re all scared. Scared of our enemies, scared of death, scared of the unknown. Above all, we’re scared of ourselves.”
He glanced at Talia, remembering her ordeal. She nodded in encouragement.
“We all live with a burden. Unconsciously, we feel ashamed of the way our ancestors treated their planet, and how they treated one another. But we must overcome this guilt and look forward to the future.
“The truth is—we don’t fully understand how to be human. We’re still figuring that out. How to be a parent, a child, a brother or a sister? What does it mean to be a good friend? A loyal citizen? There’s so much about the human condition we still don’t grasp.
“We are flawed. All of us. Nevertheless, we understand the concepts of fairness, justice, and freedom. Even in our darkest hour, we still dream, and we still hope. Despite everything we’ve been through, we remain true to what makes us human.”
Adrian stared at the cam for a moment, wondering if he ought to add anything else.
“That’s why I have faith in humanity,” he concluded. “We will survive, we will prevail, and we will reclaim our place in galactic society. For that, we need to stay united. I ask the president to grant general pardon. Enough bloodshed! I promise to lead the Earthists to the birthplace of our ancestors, when the time is right. But the fratricide tearing our fleet apart must stop. Now! That’s all I have to say.”
He gestured to the specialist operating the holo-device. As the green light next to the cam went off, he exhaled slowly, feeling lightheaded, now that the rush
of adrenaline had passed.
“Huh, doctor, the transmitter was offline,” the operator said. “Could you repeat your speech, please?”
Adrian blanched and glared at the marine. “What?”
The operator’s eyes glinted with mischief. “Relax, doctor, I’m kidding. The entire fleet heard your speech, loud and clear. A bit over-dramatic, if you ask me, but I guess we needed to hear it.”
“I’m relieved to hear you approve, specialist,” Adrian muttered, turning away from him.
Talia set her hand on his shoulder and smiled. “Don’t listen to that. I loved your speech. You’ve got at least one fan.”
Adrian returned her smile. “I never aspired to be popular. I’m a nerd, remember? One fan is more than enough.”
“Thank you, Dr. Darus.” Winsley’s voice came through the general Alliance channel. “I’m Admiral Winsley, and I would like to add a few words. Mistakes were made, and lives were lost. I’m not asking anyone to forget that. Our wounds will take time to heal. But we’re survivors, and we must do what all survivors do—mourn our dead and continue our journey. We cannot dwell on what happened and assign blame; we don’t have that luxury. Let history pass judgment upon our actions. Our priority—find a new home. That’s all that matters.
“As long as you live, as long as human blood runs through your veins, humanity is alive, and so is our dream to build a new civilization. Despite everything that happened, I’m still proud to say—we are human.”
* * *
Jason gazed at the green sphere of Chloris, growing bigger as his damaged craft fell into its gravity well. Red icons flashed on his HUD, alerting him his flight suit was running out of oxygen. He ignored them.
For the first time, he felt at peace. He contemplated the delicate lace of clouds drifting above the ocean of greenery, the contours of the mountain ranges, the sun rays streaming through the atmosphere.
His body went numb, maybe due to medication. The contour of the planet grew fuzzy. His mind drifted, and reality gave way to memories from his short, but eventful life. His friends, his brothers and sisters in arms were all there to say goodbye. His father was among them, smiling at him. Adrian was there too.
I was wrong about you, doc. I wish I could take back what I said to you. Good stars, and keep Ophelia safe.
Voices and images jumbled together; everything was chaos and confusion.
“…wake up, Jase.”
Jason forced his eyes open. It was no illusion—Radge and Porto were strapping him into a G-seat. He recognized the cabin of a Spearhead dropship.
“Hold on, buddy,” Porto said. “Just hold on for a few mins.”
Someone took off his helmet and injected him in the neck. He barely felt the cold touch of the transdermal syringe.
“Why,” Jason gasped. “Why didn’t you leave me?”
“You kiddin’?” Radge snapped. “You think we’d abandon you, bro? We won—you hear me? We won!”
“At what cost?” Jason muttered. “How many pilots died? I led them to their deaths; what gives me the right to live?”
“You’re delirious, you don’t know what you’re saying,” Porto boomed. “We need you, commander, more than ever.”
Jason swallowed with effort. “What’s the situation on the Capitol?”
“DeCourt was rescued,” Porto replied. “He promised general pardon to everyone. If he manages to convince the Earthists to lay down their arms, we’ll resume our journey to Neo.”
“DeCourt is finished,” Radge said. “At the next election, he’s out.”
“Winsley will be running for the presidency, I heard,” Porto said. “He’ll have my vote.”
“You think Darus will be in the race?” Radge asked. “His speech was pretty good.”
Jason shook his head. “Darus won’t run for president. He hates politics. And don’t discount DeCourt yet. The old snake always has a trick up his sleeve.”
Porto sighed. “You know the curse—may you live in interesting times. Interesting times lie ahead, indeed.”
Radge leaned over Jason and said, “You know who rescued the hostages on the Capitol? Commander Lance. She’s been wounded, but she’ll recover. I heard you two were good friends.”
“Yep, you could say that,” Jason replied. “We’ve been at each other’s throat for years.”
“You miss her,” Radge said with a grin.
Jason responded with a wistful smile.
You’re right. I do miss her. Maybe there is something to live for, after all.
Thank you for reading Battlegroup Vega.
Find out how Adrian Darus met with the crew of the Remembrance, how they rescued Ophelia, and live the epic Battle of Olympica in the prequel to Battlegroup Vega, a novella available EXCLUSIVELY to the subscribers of my mailing list!
First chapter from Battlegroup Vega: The Beginning
Dr. Adrian Darus was running out of oxygen when a wormhole funnel ripped through the void. The funnel flashed with the light from a thousand stars, then a destroyer-class bioship emerged from it. Carapace glistening, the ship flexed its muscles and deployed appendages bristling with weaponry and a slew of other devices.
“Oxygen depleted,” alerted the warm female voice of his personal assistant. “It has been a pleasure to be your PA, Adrian.”
“Really, Ria?” The words formed within Adrian’s mind. His PA could read his thoughts, as it was directly connected to his brain. “I thought you hated me.”
“Would you like some music to make your passing more enjoyable?” the AI suggested. “I can offer a wide selection of human classical symphonies. How about the Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven? Or perhaps the Requiem in D minor by Mozart?”
“Oh, play whatever you want. I’ll die from asphyxiation or I’ll be pulverized by a blaster bolt—what difference does it make?”
Yet the bioship’s blasters remained on standby. It fired lateral thrusters, spears of energy blazing against the backdrop of space. With surprising elegance for a 300-meter-long monstrosity that could bring death to an entire world, the destroyer moved sideways.
Lightheaded, Adrian struggled to remain conscious. The contours of the ship went fuzzy.
They won’t take me alive.
He pulled his handgun and pressed it against the visor of his helmet, but his finger refused to pull the trigger.
The world around him went dark, then a light appeared in the distance, mysterious and inviting.
Is that it? Is this how humans die? Is there anything beyond this existence of flesh and blood?
The great unknown, the final frontier, was calling out to him. Yet it wasn’t his time to set upon that final journey.
* * *
Adrian regained consciousness. Three lights slowly came into focus. He realized he was lying on an operating table in a sickbay. He expected to see a Taar’kuun medic leaning above him, but instead he saw a human face. An attractive face, at that. Her soft, delicate features couldn’t be spoiled even by the dark scales that framed her forehead and her cheeks, remnants of Taar’kuun physiology.
“Welcome back among the living.” Her voice was human, with no trace of Taar’kuun accent.
“Beware, this could be a trick,” his PA warned him.
“I know,” Adrian replied within his mind.
He sat straight on the operating table. “Where am I?” He never liked the sound of his human voice, too high-pitched for his liking, not manly enough.
“Please remain supine,” the medic told him, setting her hand on his shoulder. “I need to run a few more tests.”
Adrian’s head started spinning; he lost balance and almost fell off the table. Fortunately, his hands and legs were immobilized by biosynthetic restraints. “Shouldn’t have done that,” he said.
He let himself fall on the operating table and closed his eyes. Only the muffled whirring of diagnostic instruments disturbed the silence.
“Looks good,” the medic said. “Other than exhaustion, sleep deprivation, and elev
ated cortisol levels—which are due to chronic anxiety, I presume—you’re healthy as a human in his thirties ought to be.”
Adrian forced his eyes open. The sickbay was no longer spinning, although he still felt lightheaded. He looked at the medic again, detailing her features with professional interest. Lush auburn hair had replaced most of the Taar’kuun scales on her head. In a few months, she would be phenotypically indistinguishable from her human ancestors.
And there was more; not only her appearance and her language were human. Her tone expressed human emotions.
“You actually care?” Adrian asked.
Her hazel eyes dashed from the display of her bioscanner to him. “What do you mean, Dr. Darus?”
“You know who I am?” He was so baffled he almost forgot about his previous question.
“Yes and yes,” she replied. “I wouldn’t be a good medic if I didn’t care about the well-being of my patients, especially VIPs like you.”
“Yep, we know who you are, and we’ve crossed half the damn galaxy to save your skin,” a male voice interrupted.
Adrian turned his head to a human male wearing the dark-blue uniform of the ASF, Alliance Space Forces. Two golden stripes shone on his shoulders, indicating the rank of lieutenant. Young, tall and handsome, he appeared to Adrian as a remarkable specimen of the human species. The curls of his ginger hair shimmered under the lights, and his green eyes sparkled with wit.
“Lieutenant Jason Blaze, navigation officer and acting XO of the ASF battleship Remembrance,” the officer introduced himself.
It’s a destroyer, an antique model at that, not a battleship. Adrian decided not to antagonize his saviors and kept this thought to himself.
“And I’m Dr. Talia Galen, SMO,” the medic introduced herself with a little smile at the corners of her lips.
Adrian thought she looked too young for a senior medical officer. “You named yourself after Galen, the ancient Greek physician? Excellent choice. You must have good knowledge of human history. That happens to be my favorite subject—”
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