by John Walker
Conflict
Rise Of Mankind
Book 4
John Walker
Copyright © 2017 John Walker
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
DISCLAIMER
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This story contains explicit language and violence.
Blurb
Disaster strikes
The Behemoth, en route home after a successful mission liberating a mining facility from pirates, finds itself drifting in an uncharted sector of space. As the crew comes to, made ill by this jump drive malfunction, they spring into action to restore the ship to operational status so they can get home.
However, they quickly find they are not alone. Surrounded by a native fleet of warships, they are viewed with suspicion as an alien force infringing on another culture’s space. They attempt to communicate but find themselves moving toward a conflict they do not want. The Behemoth may find themselves stuck in the far reaches of space with no hope of getting home.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
Prologue
An explosion off the port bow drew Raeka’s attention to the main screen. One of his destroyers took a direct hit to the engine room, obliterating the reactor and sending two hundred men and women to their deaths. Ordinance of all types flew in every direction, decorating the empty space with streaks of red and purple.
Two fleets engaged in an epic struggle. The Emancipated versus Founders. As they pressed hard for any advantage, smaller vessels burned and popped in orange ovals before flickering out of existence like a candle snuffed by the fingers of a God. The upper hand seemed elusive and the fight might’ve gone on for several hours.
Raeka Anvinari commanded the Emancipated fleet, sending commands to the various ships as they countered the even odds of their enemies. Scout vessels attempted to flank their adversaries, launching missiles before using superior speed to dart away, out of range. Turrets from battleships lobbed heavy projectiles against the shields of the larger capital ships but hadn’t been able to break through.
All this death, all this conflict. How can our leaders not find a common ground to build a lasting peace? Raeka had long been weary of fighting. All the young soldiers under his command who died needlessly deserved better. Instead, the politicians played dangerous games and created nothing but tension and new grudges.
The captain stood tall for one of his kind at just over six feet and his slate black hair was cut short in the tradition of a warrior. Brown-black eyes peered out from a severe brow and his figure, thin and tone, wore his uniform easily, as if he were born to it. As he leaned forward, chin on his hand, he peripherally realized he needed to shave—just a slight distraction to his wholly focused attention.
Much as he wanted to practice what he thought, Raeka believed the Founders were little more than spoiled bullies, trying to steal what they didn’t earn. Sharing might’ve been possible if they had been willing to be something other than tyrants. As soon as they began to demand and even tried to steal the hard work of the colonists, the fighting started.
It all started long before Raeka was born and he grew up in a world obsessed with the conflict. Everyone discussed it as if there were no other topics. Social concerns fell by the wayside and as he ordered another volley of missiles to be thrown against their enemies, he wondered if there ever might come a day where they worked together again.
“Direct hit!” Tarkin, the weapon’s officer cried. “We missed their flagship but one of the picket line vessels just went down.”
“Very good,” Raeka replied. “Let’s get into a better position to finish this off. It would be nice to enjoy a decisive victory today.”
He stood by and watched as their ships took advantage of the breach in the enemy’s line. They sent a massive barrage against the Founder flagship, watching as the shields flared wildly from so many hits. Still, they managed to hold and Tarkin cursed under his breath, reorganizing his people for another attack.
Before they’d be ready, the Founder commander would certainly close the gap. Those front line ships projected a dome like shield, granting protection to all the vessels behind them as well. These single direction barriers allowed them to fire out but kept anything from getting through.
They had to overwhelm the one ship they took out in order to blow it up. Their scouts could help but they didn’t carry heavy enough weapons to do too much damage. This meant they needed to throw even more ordinance out but luckily, they didn’t have to worry much about ammunition.
Their mass driving cannons could recreate additional rounds from scrap and they carried an awful lot when engaging in fleet actions. Beam weapons were less reliable but they did help once they burst through shields. They could cut sections of enemy ships off quite easily but did not allow for sustained weapon use.
Each blast tended to sap their reserve of energy and required them to recharge. Depending on how overboard they went with using them, that could last five minutes or extend to several hours. Raeka had ordered such an attack once that debilitated their ship for nearly a day but it had been a decisive win against an enemy ship depot.
It set the Founders back six months on replacing lost ships so the price was more than worth paying.
Raeka watched as the Founders moved into a formation he was quite familiar with. The tactic involved creating a vanguard with the shield ships and battleships next to one another. If they got it together, they’d charge, blasting at the Emancipated fleet all while in the protection of their front line vessels.
The Emancipated fleet shared the same configuration. All their crafts came from the same blueprints. Precious little was different but the minor changes, the weapons and the way they used them, tended to set the two cultures apart. If they allowed the Founders to prep up their attack, it might turn the tide of the conflict.
“We have to stop that,” Raeka said, pointing at the screen. “Get the scouts on the line and have them harass the ships who haven’t formed up yet. They can’t let up until we’re able to make our own push or we might lose this fight. In fact, get some of the damaged ships to fall back. If we are routed, I don’t want anyone left behind.”
“Yes, sir.” Tarkin replied, leaning to speak into his microphone.
My opponent knows if he gets in that position, we’re done. He also knows I can’t let him. That means he probably anticipates my attack with the scouts but I don’t have a choice. It’s either that or flee and we can’t give up now. This might well be one of the final battles for our people. If we wipe them out here, they won’t have much left to fight with.
The scouts engaged, firing wildly into the fray. It caused some chaos but battleships returned fire. Raeka’s stomach sunk when he saw one of his scouts get annihilated but the others evaded and moved out of range again. The formation continued to build
. Raeka gripped his hands into tight fists.
“One of the scouts has volunteered to sacrifice themselves,” Gahlir, the communication’s officer, announced loudly. “They are willing to initiate a self destruct sequence and fly into that formation.”
Raeka struggled with the offer. Part of him agreed, it would be a sound tactic and likely throw the Founders into disarray. However, just shy of a hundred people crewed one of those vessels and at least some of them would die. If they started bailing out before picking up speed, the enemy might redirect and make the sacrifice pointless.
I’m responsible for so many deaths already…but if we don’t make this sacrifice, will I be responsible for losing that many more? This is why we need peace. Decisions like these should never be made and wouldn’t be necessary if the politicians spent more time analyzing the cost of their war, and less arguing over inconsequential grievances.
“I…” Raeka sighed. “Give the order. Allow them to perform the attack.”
A bright light flared off to the right, cutting through the window and filling the bridge. Raeka winced and rubbed his eyes, dazzled by the suddenness of it. Is that a new weapon? Did the Founders develop something we didn’t know about? Impossible! Our spies would’ve caught it.
“What was that?!” Milana, his pilot asked the question but he had no answer. He turned to Gahlir.
“What do you have on scans?”
“I…don’t know what to say…it seems…”
“Well?” Raeka spoke impatiently. “Hurry, man. What do you see? What did they fire at us?”
“They didn’t…it…well, it’s a ship.”
“What class? Is it reinforcements?”
Gahlir shook his head. “No, sir…it…just appeared. Literally, it wasn’t there a moment ago and now…poof. It’s there.”
“Impossible.” Raeka waved his hand. “You must be mistaken. They just used some sort of device to get in quietly. Now, what class?”
“Sir, I’m putting it on screen. It’s vastly larger than anything the founders have to field. Believe me, I’ve never seen it before…nor do I understand what I’m even looking at. The design, the materials, the hull…none of it matches anything in our databases. Honestly, I’d call this an alien vessel.”
“Aliens? Preposterous…” Raeka’s sentence died on his lips as the scan came up on the main screen. Indeed, the massive craft looked nothing like anything he’d seen before and it proved to be absolutely massive. It began to drift, hovering slowly among the stars. No light emanated from it. Perhaps it was a husk, a craft from some long dead age…but he still struggled to believe it.
I feel like I must be dreaming. “Can you hail it?” Raeka asked. “Are you picking up any signals at all?”
“I’m scanning the surface now but the material is defying our scans…” Gahlir paused. “I’m picking up a low level energy reading but little else. Hm. Sir, there’s something on the side of the ship. Some kind of sigil or marking. Perhaps it represents a designation of sorts? I’ll enhance and magnify.”
“Thank you.” Raeka rubbed his chin. The Founders fleet fell back, disengaging from the fight and his fellow captains allowed them to. They gave up the attack formation as well. Curiosity trumps conflict I suppose. Little stopped a battle besides attrition and supplies. Many fights ended as a result of running low on ammunition long before both sides were decimated.
Which is why the war rages on. If one side or the other would simply take the fight to the other’s world, fully commit their forces…but the risk was too great. If the gambit failed, then they’d have nothing to defend with. Raeka privately believed both sides feared destroying one another, ending their existences completely.
“On screen now, sir.” The screen flickered, pulling Raeka’s attention back to the present. He squinted, taking in the strange characters. B E H E M O T H. He’d never seen such a thing but perhaps they could interpret.
“Run that through the universal translator,” Raeka said. “And let’s get a scout over there to check it out. So far, it’s not acting in an aggressive manner so let’s collect as much data as we can. Everyone stay on point and get me the Founder captain. I’d like to see what their intentions are in light of this situation. I’m thinking this may call for a truce.”
After Dawn knows we could use a minute to breathe.
Chapter 1
Captain Gray Atwell’s ears buzzed. Confusion gripped his mind as consciousness trickled over him. Pins and needles danced through his limbs as a muffled beep mirrored the hammering of his heart. He opened his eyes, peeling the lids back from sandpaper eyes. Misery increased exponentially as he drew a deep breath and stirred.
What the hell happened? The first thought after waking up made him roll over on his back. He stared up at the ceiling of the bridge, a blurry gray mass of metal. Someone else moaned off to his side, expressing their discomfort audibly. The sound turned Gray’s stomach. He’d barely acclimated to the annoying beep…which must’ve been an alarm.
Okay, so we’re probably in trouble. Get up, Gray! C’mon! Get up!
“Captain?” Ensign Paul Bailey’s voice helped root him in reality, bringing his senses back fully. “Captain, can you hear me?”
Gray nodded. “Yes, I can…I’m here. What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure. I came to help you up.” Paul gestured behind him. “I couldn’t wake up Renee…he’s still in the pilot’s seat but unconscious. Mac’s also down in Navigation.”
“Christ…” Gray shoved himself up, holding onto Paul until the darkness receded from his vision. “Did our jump go bad? Are we home?”
Paul took his seat again and tapped the controls, shaking his head. “Looks like we’re on auxiliary power only. All my connections to the rest of the ship, engineering, medical and even scans are offline. Nothing seems damaged but the generators are off. I can’t raise anyone on the com either.”
“I’m sure everyone just experienced the same fate as us.” Gray sat in his own chair and checked his computer. It was working but the network was down. He wanted to get up and check on the other members of the bridge crew but his legs didn’t immediately respond. Taking a moment sounded like a good idea. “What can you get done from your post?”
“I can try to establish a connection to the rest of the ship’s systems, those that can operate on low power mode. The network might be able to come back online but I’d really rather have Olly help with it.”
“I’m going to get down to medical, you hit engineering. We’ll need both up and functioning if we hope to fix this.” Gray rubbed his eyes. “You ready for this?”
“Yes, sir.” Paul nodded.
“Link back up in fifteen minutes regardless but if they’re waking up down there, see if you can help them get the generators back up.”
“I’ll do what I can. Good luck, sir.”
Gray watched the younger man go and drew a deep breath. His limbs still felt heavy but he did his best to shake it off before heading down the hallway. The elevators were offline as well and he suddenly didn’t envy poor Paul. Engineering was several decks lower than medical. They both had some exercise coming either way.
The first few rungs didn’t bother him too much but after two decks, Gray started sweating. Whatever knocked him unconscious did a serious number on him. He felt like he just recovered from the flu, especially the way his stomach started flopping around. When he arrived on the deck he needed, he leaned against the wall in an attempt to recover.
Jumps are hard on the body as it is but this one…God, I hope we made it home. Maybe they’ll send some help when they see us drifting out here. So much for a flawless mission.
Gray shoved away from the wall and stumbled the first few steps before steadying out. By the time he reached the sick bay, he found others sitting up and crawling to their feet, looking as disoriented as he felt upon his own awakening. Doctor Laura Brand leaned against a computer console, tapping at the panel.
“Doctor?” Gray cleared his th
roat.
“Captain!” Laura glanced in his direction but didn’t move. “Thank God you’re okay. We seem to be having a power problem. Is that something you’ll be able to help with?”
“Paul’s gone to Engineering and I came here. How’re your people?”
“Recovering. I haven’t done a full analysis yet, but it looks like whatever happened effected our equilibrium. Unless I’m mistaken, I think it’ll wear off on its own but…judging by your grim expression, we don’t have time for this to happen on its own, right?”
“Pretty much.”
Laura nodded. “I’ll work on a compound to hasten the process as soon as I determine exactly what happened. It would happen a lot quicker if I had access to the network and my computer equipment.”
“Like I said, we’re working on it.”
“Have a seat and I can check you right now.”
Gray began to protest but decided against it. He felt a need to wander the ship and check on people, Adam, Clea…the rest of his senior staff. But if he collapsed in the hallway, he wouldn’t do anyone any good. He moved over and took a seat near Laura and leaned back, his body relaxing the moment he took the weight off his legs.
The doctor waved a device near his chest and checked the results, staring intently at the small screen. After a moment, she performed another pass. “The network might be down but our hand held units are designed for leaving the ship. They won’t give us the same deep diagnostic I’d prefer but they’ll do for now.”
More crew members started pouring into the sick bay, various people rousing to seek help. Each person who entered increased Gray’s relief. Hopefully, there were no fatal casualties. I have to ask Clea how often this type of thing happens to an Alliance ship. Ours is having serious issues.
One of the com units nearby started to chime and Laura tapped it. “Sick bay, Doctor Brand speaking.”
