The Crucible- The Complete Series

by Odette C. Bell

  “Lieutenant—” the Captain began.

  She stopped.

  We saw something start to lift up from the wall.

  The sensor tech jerked back from her station as if she been burnt.

  “What is it?” the Captain snapped, so much tension running through her voice it sounded like her throat would shatter.

  “Another ship is forming. It’s massive. It’s… it’s ten times bigger than the Ra’xon.”

  A terrified silence filtered through the ship.

  The Captain snapped to her feet.

  I watched in dumbfounded silence as the view screen zeroed in on the ship.

  It was huge.

  “Chief,” the Captain bellowed, “get me engines.”

  “I’m on it, I’m on it.”

  “Now.”

  Alyssa rocked back on her haunches, her arms still locked around her knees, her eyes wide with terror, her cheeks as pale as alabaster.

  That ship pulled up from the dust, crackles of bright blue electricity surging over its hull.

  More and more little ships formed around it.

  It was an army.

  It was a goddamn army.

  “Chief!” the Captain bellowed once more.

  “Done! We’ve got them. Engines are ready.”

  “Run,” the Captain ordered.

  We did.

  There was a single moment where the Ra’xon’s engines were initiated. A single moment where everyone on that bridge looked down at that army in horror.

  Then a pulse of light filtered over the screen and we jumped.

  “Full speed. Don’t stop until we run out of power,” the Captain commanded.

  “Got it,” the Chief shouted in reply.

  “Are those ships following?” the Captain snapped.

  The sensor tech hunched over her console.

  Everyone watched her.

  Everyone waited.

  “No. No indication they’re following.”

  “Yet,” the Captain added before anyone could relax.

  Alyssa suddenly took a breath and clamped her hands around her head.

  “Alyssa?” I couldn’t help it this time, and I threw myself off my chair and plunged down to a knee next to her. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

  It took a while before she could drop her tensed hands from around her face.

  She looked up into my eyes.

  Her pale brown eyes had never been more startling.

  I swallowed. “Alyssa?”

  “They’re not following,” she managed through a breath. “They’re not following.”

  The Captain took a snapped step towards her. “How do you know?”

  “I… I don’t know. But… they’re not following.”

  Nobody relaxed.

  No one could.

  We’d poked a hornet’s nest. We’d awoken a monster.

  Still on my knees, one supportive hand on Alyssa’s back, I turned my attention back to the view screen. It showed space struck through with lines of stars as we travelled at maximum BL.

  Finally I turned back to the Captain.

  Our eyes met.

  “What have we done?” she asked simply.

  What have we done?

  Thank you for reading Episode Four.

  Episode Five

  Divide and Conquer

  Chapter One

  Lieutenant Commander Nathan Shepherd

  Words couldn't begin to describe the destruction.

  Lives, ships, planets, whole goddamn sectors, all lost to the Forgotten.

  Sweat slicked my brow, coating my top lip, collecting under my chin. My heart started to beat hard in my chest as I stood there and considered the window before me and the plain view of space beyond. Darkness struck through with stars.

  I was like a man in a dream. No. A nightmare. Two weeks ago when we’d inadvertently woken the Forgotten, we couldn't have known then what we’d started. A war. A war that could consume the entire Milky Way.

  Tension built in my chest, driving hard towards my feet, sinking into my knees, pushing into the ground.

  There was a beep from behind me. A notification from the computer. I knew what it was without asking.

  “The latest galaxy-wide casualty reports have arrived,” the computer said in its toneless electronic voice.

  I clenched my teeth hard, grating them together, feeling the jittering shudder pass deep into my jaw. “Read them aloud,” I said reluctantly. In all truth, I wanted to run from them. Hide. But I couldn't. I had a job to do. We all had a job to do now. The resistance may have formed to destroy the Star Forces, but now our goals had morphed. Unless this galaxy pulled together, we wouldn’t have the strength to push the Forgotten back. No single group, no matter how powerful, had the requisite technology and manpower to make a dent in the Forgotten's never-ending surge. They were the greatest enemy the Milky Way had ever seen.

  My mind reeled just thinking of it. I couldn’t process it, couldn’t grow accustomed to the existential threat at our door.

  I brought a hand up and pushed it against my teeth, letting my fingers slip and slide over my sweaty lips.

  “The casualty reports in the last 24 hours,” the computer began, “the Star Forces have lost approximately five heavy cruisers, three light cruisers, two refueling tanks….”

  I stopped listening.

  I fell off a cliff and plummeted deep into self-pity and regret. I couldn't shake the guilt, no one on the Ra’xon could. We all felt responsible for what had happened. If we hadn't been there, if we hadn't taken Williams to that wall, then the Forgotten wouldn’t have awoken, right?

  Wrong. If we hadn’t awoken them, the Star Forces would have. And if not them, someone else.

  The Forgotten would have lured a telekinetic warrior close enough to do their bidding.

  The one silver lining of this entire sorry affair was that the Forgotten hadn’t gotten their hands on Alyssa. She was still here with us – with me – and she was holding up, maybe better than I was. It was hard, though – the Forgotten were calling to her. She’d told me she could hear them in her mind like a far-off choir.

  I still didn't understand their technology. No one did. Our scientists were grappling with it every second of every day. The Forgotten had a level of development hundreds of years beyond ours. Not only could those creatures instantly transport from site-to-site, traversing up to hundreds of kilometers at a time, but their ships were in a world of their own. Undefeatable. They travelled twice as fast as our maximum beyond-light capacity, and their weapons were the most powerful ever seen. They could obliterate a heavy cruiser in a matter of minutes.

  I did it again – I closed my eyes, forced them tightly shut, squeezed the skin until it felt as if I’d push my eyeballs right through my skull.

  I drove my teeth into my bottom lip, pushed them around, crumpled the flesh between them until it felt as if I'd slice it into shreds.

  “That is the end of the casualty report,” the computer suddenly beeped, “do you want it read again?”

  “No,” I said in a gravelly tone.

  I'd heard enough. Instead, reluctantly, I forced myself to turn, and I headed for the door.

  This war would not end without sacrificing everything we had, and it was time to get back to the fray.

  Chapter 2

  Alyssa Nightingale

  The bridge of the Ra’xon was a mess, cables splaying from every compartment, littering the floor like veins pulled from someone’s arm. View screens were cracked, and singed consoles had borne the brunt of battle after battle. But we were still alive, goddammit, we were still alive.

  And somehow I was holding it together. I didn't know why. With the constant ringing in my head, I should have been nothing more than a vegetable. I wasn't. And maybe that was because of Shepherd.

  He hadn’t left my side, not before the war had begun and not in the two weeks since.

  I brought a hand up and rested it against my chest, pushing my fi
ngers hard against the tough fabric of my uniform.

  “Shift that console,” a technician suddenly asked, pointing to a mangled console to my left.

  If I had to hazard a guess, it had once been the primary communications panel. Now it was just a chunk of singed, charred metal, warped when a gel pack had exploded within it.

  I extended a hand, spread my fingers, and easily pulled the console up, lifting it high into the air and shifting it across the room.

  I'd settled into my new implants. I no longer felt the awesome power beckoning me. I could find a calm place in my mind, if I pushed myself. And there I could control them without being controlled by them. But I had to admit it was hard. It was hard, because whenever I used my implants, I could hear them louder. Those voices. That whispering, far-off song.

  I forced down the bile that rose in my throat as I thought about it. I set the console down, nodded at the technician, and stood back, eyes flicking from one side of the bridge to the other.

  The crew worked tirelessly. We each had a six hour shakedown a day – for every other hour, we worked nonstop.

  We were ready to drop and strung out, but we were still pushing on. And that meant something, right? Whether it meant we could possibly win against the Forgotten, I didn't know. But it meant something to me. It meant enough that I could live through another day.

  “How are you holding up?” someone suddenly asked from behind me. It was the Chief. She was covered in grime. It tracked up her arms and collected under her nails.

  It looked as if she hadn't washed for a week, and maybe she hadn't. Of all the people on the Ra’xon and the Miracle, she was by far the most overworked. With her specialized knowledge of engine cores, she was the only thing keeping us alive.

  While I could shift a console from one side of the room to the other with nothing but a thought, I couldn't keep these two ships running and fighting.

  “Me, I'm fine.” I swiveled my head to follow her. “How about you?”

  She didn't answer. Instead, she brushed past, got down on one knee, pulled back a panel in the floor, and started rummaging through some gel packs surrounded by a net of bright blue and green sensors.

  I stood next to her and watched. Her shoulders were hunched as her six arms worked tirelessly. Here and there, her hands shivered from weakness and fatigue.

  “Is there anything I can do? Is there any way to help?”

  The Chief didn't answer. Not right away. She finished doing what she was doing, sighed, stood up, and shook her head. “Just live another day.” With that, she turned and walked out.

  I sighed through my teeth, twisted on my foot, and followed her.

  Before I could make it out of the room there was a ping from one of the consoles to my left. I snapped my head around and stared as a sensor technician threw himself at the panel, fingers darting over it, sweat dripping down his brow as he yanked his head back and stared at the view screen. “We’re picking up more distress signals. Looks like there’s a civilian transport that’s been torn apart by Forgotten raiders. There’s….”

  I watched the technician’s shoulders tense.

  “There’s no survivors,” he said, voice striking a hollow note as it rang through the bridge.

  No one said anything. There was nothing to say.

  We all turned and went back to work.

  I headed into the superfast lift, waiting as an injured ensign hobbled out, ignoring the massive gash in her leg and thrusting herself at the closest station, checking some engineering report.

  I let my gaze follow her until the doors swiftly shut before me. I closed my eyes.

  I felt it – the guilt. How could I not feel it? I felt responsible for this, felt responsible for every injury on the Ra’xon. Because they were hounding me – the Forgotten. They were hounding this ship, but only because they were after me.

  Though they had Williams, they wanted me. They needed my ability to interact with their implants perfectly. And once they had me… once they had me….

  I clenched my teeth together, so much pain and tension shifting through my jaw it was a surprise my body didn't implode.

  With a soft ping, the superfast lift opened, and I entered onto deck 15. Forcing myself out, I straightened my back, smoothed a calm look over my face, and forced myself to walk forward.

  I smiled at every crew member I passed. I tried to support them any way I could, because they were doing this for me.

  I reached the med bay and walked in. It was time for my daily appointment.

  If the war with the Forgotten weren’t bad enough, my dependence on 78 had increased immeasurably. We were going through our supplies so quickly we’d run out in under a month.

  The Doc looked up as I entered and shifted towards me, placing the scanner she was using down on a trolley and pointing to a bed.

  She didn't have to explain the procedure to me anymore. I knew.

  I walked over to the bed, sat on the edge, closed my eyes briefly, and let out a massive sigh. That's when I heard it: the door opening and hurried footsteps headed my way.

  I smiled. Before I opened my eyes, I knew who it was. Shepherd. Despite the fact he was about as overworked as the Chief, he always made time for this appointment. He always stood by my side.

  “How’s she going, Doc?”

  The Doc returned from her office carrying a heavy metal case. She swiped a hand over the sensor above the handle, and with a few words and clicks the case opened, revealing the 78 within. “She’ll be fine in a moment.”

  My heart skipped, raced, sweat slicking my brow, breath becoming trapped in my chest like a hard lump.

  Without a word Shepherd shifted closer to me. Though he didn't reach out a hand to touch me, he didn't have to. His mere presence was enough.

  “Everything is fine, Lieutenant Commander; her scans are normal.”

  Shepherd nodded, then he turned his attention to me. I swore I heard the muscles in his neck shift. I swore I was that attuned to his body that I could pick up even the slightest movement.

  I twisted my head to face him. I couldn't control my smile. Which was insane. We were knee deep in a war that would probably wipe out every advanced civilization in the Milky Way, and all I could do was smile. But it felt good if only for those few seconds to push away the guilt, hatred, frustration, and confusion.

  He smiled back, his cheeks crinkling and pushing high into his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. It's not what I wanted to do, but I couldn't find the words. What I really wanted to say was how thankful I was for his presence. His continued support. But I knew I couldn't dare begin a conversation like that in front of the doctor. God knows what would come gushing out of my mouth.

  Instead, I hooked my hair over my ears and shrugged again. “I guess I'm fine.”

  “No headaches? No pain?” He jumped straight into caregiver mode.

  I shook my head, lying. Of course there were headaches and pain. They were constant now as my dependence on 78 escalated. My symptoms were excruciating, but what I was going through was nothing compared to what Williams would be experiencing.

  Williams…. We’d heard reports of her. We’d picked up mission statements from various Star Forces cruisers that had come in contact with the primary Forgotten vessel. We were calling it the Death Giver. It was a supermassive heavy cruiser, 10 times the size of the Ra’xon. It destroyed anything in its path. Even if every Star Forces ship amassed against it, our best tactical estimates concluded the Forgotten would still win.

  We had to find some way of destroying that ship at all costs, and I had to find some way of wiping away my guilt.

  Williams was only in that position because of me. If Shepherd hadn’t taken me back to the Ra’xon in time, Williams would be okay…. Or maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe the Forgotten would have used me to destroy the Ra’xon before it fled.

  It didn’t matter. All that mattered is that I knew she was going through hell.

  Various
Star Forces reports confirmed she was on the Death Giver. They’d seen her. With the power of the Forgotten, she could float through space without popping in the vacuum. She’d been seen outside of the Death Giver dealing out judgement, hands waving to and fro as she commanded the very force of gravity, tearing into any ship that dared stray into the Forgotten’s path.

  “Don’t think about it,” Shepherd suddenly said.

  I looked up at him, surprised. “What?”

  “Whatever you're thinking about,” he dipped his head, that smile still spreading across his lips, “Alyssa, just don’t think about anything.”

  It was sage advice, especially at a time like this, but I couldn't follow it. My mind twisted from guilty thought to guilty thought, until finally the doctor came over.

  She had an electro needle in her hand, and I watched with an uneasy stomach as she locked the 78 capsule into the back of the handle. “Ready?” She looked up at me.

  It took a few seconds, but I forced myself to nod. “Ready,” I confirmed in a quiet stilted voice.

  Without another word, she shifted towards me and nodded at Shepherd.

  He locked a hand on my shoulder to steady and support me.

  I closed my eyes and tightened my hands into fists.

  Every time I received a dose of 78 these days it was excruciating, and there was nothing that could be done for me. No drug that could block the pain.

  “Okay, I'm going to administer it in three, two, one – now.” The doctor plunged the needle into my chest.

  I screamed. I jerked back, and if it weren't for Shepherd’s steady hand on my shoulder, I would have fallen off the side of the bed. Instead he held me with all his strength, even wrapping an arm around my back as I buckled and convulsed like a tree being torn apart by a violent wind.

  The convulsions lasted a full minute, until finally the pain ebbed, and for a few short seconds there was nothing. No agony. No terror. Nothing but silent bliss.

  In those few seconds, I opened my eyes and stared at Shepherd, and again he smiled.

  Seconds later the headache returned, though not in full force. It started to climb my temples. Within the next hour, it would proceed to almost migraine levels. By the time I received my next dose of 78 in 24 hours, it would feel like there was a sonic drill bursting through my temples.